


Man Unbroken

by Baitnate



Category: Original Work
Genre: Abuse, Betrayal, Bondage, Dark, Dungeon, Gay Male Character, Good vs. Evil, Incest, Kidnapping, M/M, Macabre, Multi, Murder, Poetic Justice, Revenge, Sadism, Sold!, Some Really Fucked Up Shit, Threesome - M/M/M, Torture, enslavement, gunfights
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-26
Updated: 2014-04-26
Packaged: 2018-01-20 20:58:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 23
Words: 80,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1525460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baitnate/pseuds/Baitnate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Avery Jones is a man running from a past filled with betrayal and abuse, sculpted yet unbroken. The scars criss-cross his body, telling a story of tragic horrors. Tyler Davenport is his chance to be happy again, a chance at innocence that he never got to experience- with his lover's smooth, beautiful unbroken flesh and pristine, untainted spirit. <br/>This was his chance..... but that chance was stolen from him by the very wicked agents from long ago. Now, Tyler must endure the horrors of the Facility, a hellish warehouse of torture and human trafficking, while Avery finds himself caught up in a deadly game of murder and revenge; a pawn at the behest of the mysterious hollow-mechanical voice known as Ghost. This is a tale of bullets, shards of glass, and red ribbons of blood and the awesome might of the lover's defiance. </p><p>Dedicated to David, the man from DeviantArt who inspired me to start writing in the first place. And special thanks to Ryan for volunteering himself into the story as well. You guys are both amazing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Scars

Characters in this story are fictitious and any resemblance to anyone out in the real world is purely coincidental (and maybe a little creepy).

"The entire sum of existence is the magic of being needed by just one other person."  
-Vi Putnam

 

Thrum thrum thrum went the dance floor, where heads and hearts pulsed with energy as the lights swirled about in a kaleidoscopic galaxy. Hips were thrusting, fists were pumping, shoulders were swaying, and winks were flirting. Shirtless gay boys spooned their elder daddies or each other; a loving sacrifice to the gods of passion and lust.  
Thrum thrum thrum went the dance floor as Tyler locked eyes with his seated lover sipping a drink. He'd ingested several cocktails already and felt amazingly hot and hawt on his feet. His form-hugging T-shirt had been kidnapped by his belt, leaving his smooth skin exposed to the club's elemental forces that danced and caressed him with wanton sparkly lust. A thin band of white underwear hinted at things to come, poking out from his jeans, and the glitter makeup on his boyish face sparkled enticingly in the electric strobe-lights.  
Thrum thrum thrum went the dance floor as Avery bit his lower lip, nervous as hell. There were just too many people on the dance floor. Too many people in this building. He felt an uncomfortable pressure in his stomach, surely caused by Tyler's loving gaze and his liquid movements. He was smooth in everything; smooth skinned, smooth in speech, and smooth in his physical grace. Everything about Tyler was perfect. He felt as if he would spoil the beauty of the dancing twink boy's movements. A pair of hot boys gyrated in his direction, but Tyler swiveled expertly and gracefully out of their range, never looking away from Avery. He gestured for him to come down and party. His hands slid down his torso, falling to his belt line as he cock-thrusted forward and curled back almost as if he were boneless. Avery gulped. His boy meant business.  
Thrum thrum thrum went the dance floor as Avery put down his drink. He stood up, Tyler smiling beautifully, his hands now rubbing his chest and neck as if they were kissing him all over. Avery about lost it when he moaned; loud it was, but drowned out by the louder dance beat.  
Thrum thrum thrum went the dance floor as Avery joined him. The older gentleman slid his hand around Tyler's waist as they swung side to side, almost in a classic dance pose. Tyler spun around, hand on Avery's shoulder and he slid up and down his lover's body, rubbing hard against the denim. Avery still didn't see what Tyler saw in him; he was about a decade older than the boy, almost two of them, actually; with rough, rugged and scruffy flesh, piercing blue eyes, and seemed marked by an eternal scowl. The younger boy, however, was 21 and in the prime of his youth. He had lovely brown eyes, a tan to make a Brazilian jealous, manicured hair, and was fit but had a soft body. He was excellent to touch, to see, to hear, to smell, and possibly to taste.... were Avery to actually try.  
It had been their fifth date; Tyler insisted this time they head to Neighbours Nightclub, one of his favorite dancing spots. Strangely, Avery had yet to put out for the young man, but tonight he was sweating because Tyler insisted they head back to his apartment after the courtship dance was finished.... Yet, somehow, Avery found himself enjoying the experience. No one was staring at him, save Tyler's eyeballs of chocolate lusty love. It was the eye of the storm, it seemed, and everything around them suddenly ceased to matter or exist. Tyler and him stopped dancing, Tyler being shorter but still tall enough to reach up and lock lips with him. They held each other for what seemed like eternity, enjoying each other's gasps, tongues, lips, and passion. Avery forgot all his insecurities, and Tyler felt totally protected in his arms.  
Thrum thrum thrum went the dance floor.

Ding! Went the elevator as they reached the 9th floor. Tyler had put his shirt back on, and was seemingly immune to sweat, despite Avery being damp; he was nervous about this. Tyler hurried and unlocked the door to his small studio apartment, and they filed in quickly.  
"Oh my god!" He exclaimed, smiling so bright the night seemed to fade to nothing. "I totally can't believe you actually danced! I've never seen you so animated before, Ave."  
Avery gulped and managed to smile. "You... were inspiring."  
Tyler flopped down on his ugly cheap 70's ripoff couch, patting the cushion in an invitation. "Come on, Avery, cuddle with me you snuggly retard."  
The older man found himself compelled and slid down next to his younger counterpart. Sliding out of his jacket and tossing it aside, He leaned into Tyler until they fell onto the ugly cheap 70's ripoff matching pillows near the arm.  
"What's wrong?" Tyler asked. "You got a concerned look on ya."  
Avery said nothing, instead smelling the guy's neck for a minute. "I'm nervous, Ty."  
"About what? You can share anything with me."  
"I... I'm afraid you won't like me after I show you..."  
Tyler caressed Avery's face. "You make me feel safe, Avery Jones." He kissed his lips playfully and smiled. His eyes were now a raging sparkly maelstrom of wanting. "I want you. BAD."  
"Is that so?" Avery flirted, the first time, ever.  
"What are you so afraid of? I don't care that you're 35. You're not old! You're a 35 year-old kid in love with me!" Tyler hugged him. "So please, puh-lease! I want you to make love with me! I've been waiting for you to... well, get comfortable. What's holding you back?"  
Avery pulled away. "I love how soft you are. And you're smooth as a baby's bottom, and I want to protect you forever, Tyler. But I'm afraid you'll be horrified by my own skin."  
"Show me." Tyler challenged. "Show me now, and I will still love you."  
Avery was taken aback by the boy's energy. And devotion. He stood, walking in front of the couch. He pursed his lips and glanced down at the floor. Then he removed his black shirt, and his pale white skin was visible to the boy. And so were the cuts, scraps and burns. Tyler could not help but gasp, and it made Avery cringe.  
"Oh my god! What.... what happened?!" Tyler jumped up and held his hands, looking at him with concern, and tears. "You look like you were burned or got in a fight."  
"It was a long time ago, and it was done by a very bad man." Avery sighed heavily.  
"Oh god." Tyler hugged Avery tightly. He felt a warm tear on his chest. "I'm so sorry I pressured you... I had no idea."  
"No." Avery replied, with a smile. "It was bound to happen eventually. You're a horny little uke if there ever was one." He laughed. "I'm sorry I made you wait so long."  
"It's perfectly fine, Ave... I want to ask about this though." Tyler touched the scar on Avery's breast. It was a knife cut, carved into the shape of the number 19. Avery held him closer, head on his head, and Avery's chin against his lover's noggin.  
"He did this. He wanted to break me down and make me submit. But I refused, yelling at him and being a defiant little bastard until the very end." To this Tyler looked up at him in horror. "He got off on making little boys scream. But I never screamed. I spat and growled and roared." Avery's eyes were storming with tears as he recounted his story. "He... sold me to another man, and I got away. That was.... so many years ago." And he cried.  
"Ave.... I am so, so, so sorry I made you retell that."  
"I relive it on most nights in my dreams, Tyler. The past is the past. I'm not weak anymore. And the bad man is long gone. I'm sure he's been killed by now. He hurt so many boys there's no way he can still be breathing. I like to believe that karma has done a number on him."  
Tyler cried. "Oh god I'm such an ass."  
"What?"  
"I didn't know about your scars, and I was gonna propose we do something kinky tonight. God I'm an insensitive fuck."  
"Well, now, you're certainly not insensitive." Avery smiled.  
"...did you just crack a joke?"  
"I do that from time to time." The older man said as he wiped his eyes free of tears. "What's done is done, Ty. Don't worry about it. I've been wanting to make love with you as well. And I didn't know you were kinky. The possibilities sound enticing, to say the least."  
Tyler smiled as he blushed and rubbed the back of his skull. "Yeeeeaahhh.... not all I've met are into it. But when you told me you took that rope tying class...."  
"That sounds like a lot of fun, Tyler." Avery replied. "You wanna tie me up?"  
"No... the other way around." The twink half-smiled, nervous and slightly embarrassed.  
"Oh. Ooooh." Avery smiled. "I can do that."  
"Really? You don't feel bad?"  
"What, like it brings up bad memories?" Avery cocked and eyebrow. "Don't worry about it. Seriously."  
"Okay, come with me, my love." Grabbing Avery's wrist, the little waifish boy lead him back to the bedroom, where a few coils of rope and some orange duct tape sat displayed on the bed.  
"You a lot of thought into tonight, I see." Avery noted. "The cocktail bar, the dance club, the ropes...."  
"Just you wait." Off went his shirt. "The best is yet to come." Unzipping gracefully and dropping his skinny jeans, a pair of orange briefs graced the eyes and teased the brain.  
"Mmmmm. You look delicious, Tyler."  
"Fuck me sir. I'm yours."  
"....that's disturbing. Don't do that."  
"Sorry." Tyler blushed. "You really are comfortable doing this?"  
"Yes, Tyler. I am." Avery replied, obviously agitated. "Now gimme the rope and I'll get to work."

Tyler waited patiently while Avery was in the bathroom. He was still in his bright orange briefs, the matching set of tape gagging his lips together tightly. He stood on his knees, the ropes coiled around his body in a symmetrical pattern of kinky hawtness. His encased cock was thumping like a heart in pleasure, the tightness of his crotchrope and the fabric of his briefs triggering the neurons that fired off in his pleasure centers. His arms were behind him, attached to two columns of rope that ran over his shoulders and between his lads, craddling his genitals and tightening his underwear. Ropes encircled his neck, and looped under his armpits and circled around the backside of his waist to connect into a grand central knot station in the middle of his chest. It was firm, yet not constricting to his wrists. He waited patiently, yet desperately needing Avery to let him cum.  
The older gentleman returned, wearing just some white boxer briefs with a red waistband. The sight of Avery 90% nude got his captive very excited, and a smile was vaguely visible under the tape, provided one knew where to look. Avery smiled back, and crawled onto the bed, his hands playing with Tyler's nipples, and the boy shuddered, trying to get away. Avery pulled him back by reaching around his head, and kissing his neck. Kiss, kiss suck ….  
"Mmmmmhmm!" Tyler's eyelids slid closed as he moaned. He moaned even louder when Avery's free hand cupped and kneeded his balls through his briefs. He could only react and feel, and Avery's fingers danced on the rim of his briefs, slowly swimming beneath the white line to grip his asscheek. All the while Avery was kissing the bound body's chest, moving south to suck on his nipple.  
"Mmm!" Tyler jumped when he felt Avery's finger slide into him from behind. It stung where the fingernail met flesh, but sent ripples of pleasurable thunder rippling up his spinal cord at the same time. Avery pulled back to look at the face of his captive, who's eyes seemed lost in dream; he kissed the orange tape deeply and lovingly. Next he pulled out his finger, letting the hole of pleasure be in peace for now. Tyler awoke with a start as Avery pushed him over, so that he lay on his shoulder. The red band of his boxer briefs lowered, and Avery's cock sprang forth, hard and eager. Avery slipped out of his underwear, tossing them aside as he waved his junk in Tyler's face. The gagged boy didn't realize how much meat his lover had been packing!  
Slap! It hit his cheek playfully, Avery jacking himself while giving his face a lombardy from Heaven. Three more times it collided, and Tyler winced and gagged-giggled. Avery climbed over him, winking as he went behind. Tyler arced his spine has he felt the boner caress his ear and slide down his back. "Mmm! Tmm!"  
"Yes?"  
"Fmm mmm mm!"  
"What?" Avery pulled back the tape.  
"Please fuck me. PLEASE." Tyler begged.  
"When I'm ready, I fucking will." The dominance in his captor's voice made him so hard! The tape slid back into place, and Avery pinned Tyler's head down and licked his ear and sucked on it before moving down to his neck again. The bound boy rolled onto his stomach and began to thrust into the mattress, begging for release. Avery kissed the center of his spine between his shoulder blades, and began to nibble with his teeth. Suddenly Tyler moaned loudly, the weirdness of the spot suddenly alive with lightning pulses! Ecstasy exploded in his brain, and he twitched and moaned; whatever Avery was doing back there with his mouth.... orgasmic! Orgasmic! ORGASMIC!  
"MMMMHHHMMMM HMMMM!!!!"  
"Mmmm. Hawt." Avery stopped and commented before diving back in. Tyler felt his hand on the back of his thigh, caressing it as he slid up and under the leg-part of his briefs, caressing and warming the erogenous zone back there. Avery grabbed him and forced him up and against his chest. Ty's fingers felt up Avery's cock while the the man played with his nipples. Kisses touched his shoulder, distracting him as the hands of Avery slid down into his briefs.  
Suddenly a flicking sound was heard, and Tyler snapped out of his trance, glancing at the knife Avery now held.... where the hell had he hidden that thing?! The blade's tip slid along his stomach, and the cold steel made him shiver.  
"Don't be scared." Avery whispered with assurance. "I will never hurt you. Trust me."  
"Nmmhmm." Tyler nodded and looked at Avery longingly. The blade sliced through the fabric on the sides of his thighs with skilled ease.... Avery had never told him about how deft he could cut things. Seeing it in action, it was swift and deadly. Yet incredibly sexy. In his mind, Tyler thought of Avery as a jungle cat.... seductive, beautiful, graceful, and lethally carnivorous. The knife cut the fabric off, and Avery simply let it drop onto the bed, sliding his hands down and peeling the fabric out from between the ropes. Tyler's cock was pointing skyward, screaming for release and drooling whiteness. A cold absence hit him.  
"Mmm?"  
"Ah, there it is." Avery grabbed the lube, slicking up his fingers. He moved in front of Tyler, and his cold, slimy fingers played around with Tyler's genitals, causing the gagged boy to moan. Meanwhile, Avery got his own cock slippery and wet, and then moved behind his roped lover. Guiding himself into the hole, he thrust inward. Avery wasn't skinny; Tyler moaned as the walls within felt the pressure. Avery's muscular arm wound around his chest, and his free hand fell to his lover's cock, cold but alive and thrumming. It hardened to granite as Avery's fingers swirled in a whirlwind beneath the head of the penis... causing "MMMPPH!!"  
With a slow series of thrusts, Avery felt thunder and lightning strike his soul; a closeness he had not felt in a long, long time enveloped him. The feeling was familiar, yet distant, like an old friend. He felt warm and beloved, and the glance from his captive caused him to reach up, rip off the tape violently, and thrust his tongue into Tyler's mouth forcefully. They moaned, eating each other's voices as they bit at their lips and slid in their tongues.  
Tyler's eyes watered in joy, and a tear hit Avery's shoulder. Not that he felt it; the sensation was numbingly awesome. Tyler released and atavistic noise from the primal part of his throat and his head fell back, leaving Avery an open spot to bite his neck. He growled as he sucked, and from down below, Tyler climaxed ivory, jetting it into the air. Not noticing, even as his lover almost lost consciousness, Avery increased his thrusting, speeding things up, and up and up.  
"Aaaaahhh.... God!" He heard Tyler groan. "Uhhhh aaaahhh." Thrust.  
"Yes...." Avery moaned into his ear. "I...." Thrust.  
"Yess...." Tyler sighed. Thrust.  
"I...." Thrust.  
"aaaahh....yes!" Thrust.  
"Love...." Thrust.  
"Oh god!" Thrust. "Faster!" Thrust.  
"You..." Thrust.  
"I love oh God!" Thrust. "Ahh! Oh God!" Thrust. Thrust. Thrust. Thrust.  
"Aaaahhh!" Avery screamed. Thrust. Thrust. Thrust.  
"I love you Avery Jones!" Thrust. Thrust Thrust.  
"FUCK!" He roared, before erupting into Tyler. He suddenly collapsed forward, forcing them both down head-first into the bed. Tyler hit the sheets, his cheek stained with his own cum, but he did not have a care in the world. Trying not to crush him, Le Petite Mort tried to take hold of Avery, who fought with all his remaining strength and will to stay up. He pulled himself out of Tyler quickly, falling over on his back next to his beloved. His hand touched Tyler's cheek, softly feeling the being he had just made sweet amazing love to. Tyler rolled over, on his back, staring at the ceiling. Avery crawled over to him, and seeing the stain on his check, happily licked it off him.  
"You taste sweet." He smiled.  
"I knew sex with you would be amazing." The young man breathed.

"You're sure you can't stay?" Tyler whined. "My bed is lonely and cold without you."  
"I'm terribly sorry, but I have work early tomorrow, and I'm gonna pay for it dearly if I don't get back to my place. I have tomorrow off, though. We should definitely do this again."  
"I would love it!" Tyler beamed. Avery was dressed back in his full dating regalia, while Tyler stood there wearing just a pair of tighty whities. They had spent another two hours kissing in the shower, cleaning themselves up after the sexy mess they had made. It was late, and Avery was going to definitely pay for his night of fun in the morning. Yet it was close enough for him and Tyler to both have off-time for, and what a fun night it turned out to be!  
"I love you." Tyler said again, for what must have been the hundredth time.  
"I love you more." Avery grinned.  
"Nuh huh! I love you more more!"  
"God you're cute." Avery hugged him close. "You make me feel young again."  
"You ARE young, Avery Jones. You just don't believe you are."  
"Good night to you, my love." Avery kissed him on the lips, a sweet conclusion to the night's lusty activities. "I will see you tomorrow night. Enjoy your day off, I will be attempting to be productive."  
"I'm glad you came over, and I'm glad you opened up to me. I feel so close to you right now! It's weird I've never felt this way before."  
"I really should have done this five dates ago." Avery sighed. "All that time wasted..."  
"It was worth it, every second."  
"Good night and sweet dreams, Tyler." Avery waved, going to the door and stepping out into the hallway. It was dimly lit, for the apartment complex was not well-maintained.  
"Good night and good luck tomorrow. I love you!" Tyler waved and he closed the door. He latched it shut and got to work cleaning things up in the bedroom. It took him several minutes, and he found several things belonging to his lover laying about.  
"Hahahahaa! Undies, belt, socks." Tyler sniffed the underwear, enjoying the scent of his man. "Silly Ave."  
There was a knock on the door.  
"One second!" Tyler skipped, carrying the objects with him. He undid the latch, and threw open the door with a flourish.  
"Hey you forg-"  
SSSSFFF!! A blast of dusty air hit him in the face and two men dressed as painters with gas masks on tackled him, dragging him further into the apartment. One of them slammed the door shut while another shoved a rag into Tyler's face.  
"Mmm!!" Tyler kicked the man in the balls, and the rag fell away. "HHHEEEEELLLLPPP!!!!!"  
The second man clamped a hand over his mouth and held him down. The other man recovered as Tyler kicked and punched to no avail. These men were strong, very strong. The rag fell on his face, and with both men attacking him at once, poor Tyler may as well been a rag-doll. "MMMMMMM!!!!!!"  
He kicked, he kicked, he kicked! But each one was weaker than the last. He felt the room start to swim. His captor's masked faces began to blur, and the room fading quickly.  
"Where's the other guy?" One of them spoke. Tyler wasn't sure who.  
"Saw him leave a while ago. Should be clear."  
"Saw you dancing at Neighbours, haha." The one holding him down said. "Mr. Wilson is gonna have a fuck-ton of fun with you."  
"And you'll make us fucking rich." The other one boasted.  
And for Tyler in terror, all fell into blackness.


	2. Defy The Chains

"In the depths of every heart, there is a tomb and a dungeon, though the lights, the music, and the revelry above may cause us to forget their existence, and the buried ones, or prisoners whom they hide."  
-Nathaniel Hawthorne 

Keys rattled the door, twisting and clinking until the old bones of the door gave way and opened up. Avery stepped into his apartment, the lights dim and flickering as he turned them on. He eagerly checked his cell phone, but found nothing, Which was strange. Tyler usually texted about 8 messages after their dates. He was talkative and left nothing in the dark about how much he enjoyed Avery's company. And after last night, Avery expected at least 16 of them to grace his phone's inbox.   
“Hey how was ur day?” Sent.  
Avery shook his head and got in the shower, stripping down to his bare flesh and letting the warmth sooth him over. He switched it to cool to keep himself awake, and then back again. Scrubbing himself clean of the hectic bullshit of his workday, Avery finally toweled off and checked his phone.  
Nothing.   
Avery scowled, and texted “Hey u ok?”  
Nothing. He turned on the TV and watched the news, waiting for a response, and after a few minutes “R u mad? What happened?”  
This time there WAS a response. “Go awy I hate u”  
“What?!” Avery could not believe what he had just read from his lover's phone. He texted again “Hey what happened? Did I hurt you?”  
“I M leaving this dump city and going away. Do not call me agn. I hate ur guts. U r old n ugly n I m wasting my time w u. I hate u.”  
The words stung. It was as if a blackened, poisoned arrow had punctured his own heart and spread tar and bile throughout his veins. For the first time in a very long time, Avery found himself suddenly crying. He called, trying to get a pick up. It just ended on voicemail.  
“Tyler, look, I don't know what happened. I'm hurt you.... said that. PLEASE give me a call. I want to know what I did wrong. Love you.” Click.   
He was surprised when a text came. But it was not from Tyler.  
“Come to Tyler's apartment. I am a friend.”  
“What the fuck?” Avery gasped. This was too strange. A bipolar boyfriend and now some weird message. He texted “Who r u?”  
“A friend. They have him. You must hurry.” The message came seconds later.  
“They?>  
“The same who took you.”  
His blood froze.

***

Tyler's eyes felt heavy. He struggled to open them, and found himself in a grey concrete room, sitting on a thin mattress in the middle of the chamber. It was several feet around, square, and devoid of windows. Light sconces on the walls provided the only illumination. A metallic door was the only exit and entrance. It was largely featureless, save for a drain in the middle of the floor, a hose hookup on the side wall opposite of his mattress, and several hooks hanging from the ceiling. Of these, the hooks were quite unnerving.  
The room smelled. Like body odor, and chemicals. And something else.  
Tyler began to take note of his body. He was naked, with his wrists cuffed in front of him on small, restrictive metal shackles. His ankles were much the same, but with a longer chain. The room was quite warm, but he still shivered out of exposure and naked shame. There were no windows, save the one on the door.  
He walked to the door, his ankle chains clinking as he did so. He glanced out the window, only to see a white hallway, polished and clean, almost like a hospital hallway would have looked, but featureless and barren. It was then that he noticed several disturbing things about this door; there were claw marks, and chippings on it, as if someone were desperately trying to get out into the hall. Dread rose in his stomach like a dreadful demon..... and then he realized what the odd smell in the room was.  
Blood.  
He panted, closed his eyes, and focused. His dad warned him never to lose his cool. Keeping composed meant one could think clearly and find a solution. “Okay, Ty. Keep your head on, stay calm. There's got to be a way out.” He muttered to himself. He had virtually nothing to work with. He thought about last night, and the two strangers who busted into his house and knocked him out... who in their right mind would do this to him? He thought of all the people he'd ever pissed off, which he could think of no one, save the religious freaks who hated all the non-religious freaks anyway. He shuddered, wondering he was in a “conversion prison” or some shit like that.  
He thought of Avery. Was he okay? He should have been, for Avery could take care of himself. Tyler felt his eyes water, because he knew he was weak and didn't stand a chance like his beloved. If only Avery had stayed....   
He saw the lights flicker, and the image of a man peering into his cell brought a combined feeling of hopeful dread to his already frightened heart. He inhaled, and exhaled as the various bolts in the door opened with a loud metal CUHTHUNK -like sound. Then the door opened, and in stepped a man. Behind him the door closed, latching shut.  
He was big and tall, and well built. He wore an outfit that resembled a police officer's, but black and red. He had a thin, scruffy beard on his powerful jaw, along with a short military haircut. He was graying, but not by much. His boots were thick and built for combat, with a steel toe on the end of each. Tyler noted that they looked heavy, but he had such powerfully built legs that it almost looked effortless for him to move them.   
His eyes, though, felt like they were seeing directly through him. They were a predator's eyes. Not a human being's. Not a psycho's eyes, even. These were from a being that hunted. That killed, possibly, and devoured it's prey. Tyler felt very much like the prey in his gaze.   
Tyler gulped as the man never lowered his gaze at him. “...Hello.” He squeaked.  
The man leaned against the wall and crossed his muscular arms. His voice was deep, and with a Deep Southern accent adding a layer of rugged authority and slight sexiness to it. “My, my, a polite boy. How refreshing.”  
“Um, where am I and who are you?”  
The man smiled at him. “I see you are quite reasonable.”  
Tyler bit his lower lip. The man was eyeing his nudity, and it felt horrible and embarrassing. Not at all like when Avery saw him nude. “Can I have some clothes?”  
“No.”  
Tyler composed himself. He didn't know how this man would react, but he knew that politness wasn't getting him anywhere fast. “Then why don't you tell me what this place is?”  
“You do not give orders around here.” The man's tone suddenly changed from inquisitive to domineering. He stood up and leered. It was as if Tyler were gazing into the burning eyes of the Devil himself.   
“Look, let me go! I don't know what-”  
“SILENCE!” The roar of the beast echoed throughout the chamber, and Tyler felt suddenly very, very small and killable. The man strode towards him, grabbing at him, but Tyler deftly pulled away, which only infuriated the leather-clad demoniac further. He dropped suddenly with seeming quickness, gripping Tyler's ankle chains and suddenly flipping him on his ass and off the floor in a sudden swift movement.   
“NO!!! HELLP! SOMEBODY HELP!!!” Tyler cried and the man dropped him, laughing. Tyler crawled away against the wall, groping it for safety that was not there. Tyler's wrists were grabbed, and he found himself suspended by one of the hooks. It locked into place, and left him just barely dangling off the floor.  
He started to cry. “Please don't kill me! Please-”  
The thick hand of the Master silenced him. “Kill you? Boy, you are gravely mistaken, I am afraid.” He removed his hand, and Tyler shivered.   
“What do you want from me?!”  
The Master was eyeing his exposed body. It made him feel ill in the pit of his soul. This man was fucking him with his eyes. “Amazing.”   
“Wha- No! Don't fucking touch me!”  
He felt the hands of the giant man grip his throat and start to strangle the life out of him. “NNOO!” He cried. Then, almost as soon as it started, he was released and could breathe again.   
“Tsk tsk. You were doing so well. But I guess all little boys like you are rude pieces of shit. I supposed it is fitting to explain to you a few significant things about your new life.”  
“N-new what?!”   
“Did I give you permission to speak, FUCKBAG?!” Spittle flew from the maw of the beast before the chained boy, landing on his cheek and feeling burning hot. Tyler bit his lip and started to cry.  
“Listen here, you fucking little faggot. I am your Master. You are not in control. I am in control, and you will be allowed privileges on my whim, and my whim alone. If I so choose, I can clothe you, feed you, have you bathed, or I can let you starve to death in this cell. I can let you wallow in your own piss, shit and vomit. On. My. Whim!”  
Tyler was crying now, in sheer terror.   
“I can be a pleasant man, once you learn how to be docile and obedient like a good slave. You will serve your new master well.”  
Tyler looked away, at the floor and sobbed.   
“Of course, you can fight me every step of the way. I have doing this for over twenty years, boy. I know ways of inflicting pain that would make the Spanish Inquisition pause and catch their breath. And, if you somehow are still sane once I'm done with you, we can always sell you off to a sadist who will do unholy, unmentionable things to you.... the choice is your's, and I SUGGEST you submit.”   
Tyler looked at the floor, not gazing up. He felt sick to his stomach, and tried to wake up from this nightmare, yet couldn't.   
“That so-called life you had before coming here? Gone. For good, boy. Forget everything that you know. It is now obsolete and of no use to you.”  
“No!” Tyler closed his eyes tight and expected pain that never came.  
“You have such a wonderful body, number 76.”  
Tyler looked up at him, having horrific deja vu. He saw that the Master enjoyed his terror, but he did know of why? It was a good question he asked himself mentally.   
“Ah, yes. Your name is to be forgotten, boy. You will answer to Number 77 when I call upon you. That is an order.”  
“My name is Tyler.”   
SLAP! The sting was breath-stealing, and the boy groaned in a mix of anger and pain.  
“Are you gonna fight me? You THINK you can best me, 77? Do you know that I have broken the last 76 boys that came through here? And YOU think you can challenge ME?”  
A glimmer of hope peaked in Tyler's eyes. “Sir... you've broken ALL the boys?”  
The man glared, one eyebrow raised. “Oh course, fuckbucket.”  
Tyler burst into laughter, scared shitless but suddenly realizing that, perhaps there was a small chance for hope. His eyes were crazy on this idea. “What the fuck...” The master lost his composure, then, feeling fury at this insubordinate piece of shit faggot, slammed his fist into his face. Tyler's chains shook violently, and his knees buckled, leaving his arms to be pulled tight in their sockets. He tasted and smelled fresh blood, his lip bleeding pretty badly.   
“Pity I had to damage that beautiful face of your's, Number 77. But that is only the tip of the iceberg if you keep this up.” He paced in front of his bloody captive. “Here in this facility, believe it or not, we are all honorable men and always keep our words. I want you to do the same. I want you to submit yourself to me, and swear to serve and obey, both my commands, and those of your future master. Will you comply, 77? Or do I need to be your enemy once more?”  
Tyler, grinning though it stung, shot a wad of spitefully spitty blood in his face.   
Seething, the Master held himself together, long enough to utter his words. “Challenge accepted, 77. By the time I am finished, you will be begging for death. I promise.”

***

Avery approached the door to Tyler's apartment, and tried the handle. Sure enough, it was unlocked, and the door opened up. He gasped, seeing what had become of his friend and his abode. The place was ransacked, with drawers opened up everywhere, closets and cabinets flung open with their contents spilled everywhere. Even the ugly cheap 70's ripoff couch (with matching ugly cheap 70's ripoff pillows) was overturned on its side.   
The weirdest thing was the tiny dining table; it was cleared of debris except for a small machine with a flashing red light. It looked like a loudspeaker of sorts. Maybe an answering machine. Either way, it was plugged in and hard to miss.   
“Tyler, what have you gotten into...” He felt compelled to push the button, and so he did, grabbing a chair to listen to the message. Except that there wasn't one. It was a speaker.  
“Hello, Avery Jones.”  
He said nothing. He just stared at the speaker.   
“I know you're there, Avery. I can see you.”  
The revelation struck him like a thunderbolt. He glanced around, and without thinking his knife was in his grip, ready to attack. “Impressive knife skills.” The voice on the machine replied.   
“Who... who are you?” Avery demanded, looking at the machine but still glancing around for an ambush. “What have you done to Tyler?”  
“Nothing.” The voice said. “I am a friend, Avery Jones. Like you, I have suffered from William Wilson's business of ruining lives.”  
“Who?!” Avery barked.  
“He is of no importance to you, Avery. Forget about killing him, himself. Only tragedy will become of it. And killing him will not return your Tyler.”  
“You say you are a friend.... how do you know so much about me? Do I know you?” Avery asked, his gaze averted to the machine, only he was wondering who this might be.  
“No.” The voice spoke. “You do not. And how I know so much would terrify you if you knew the truth.”  
“Try me.”  
“No.” The voice barked. “It is of no importance to you. Or do you not wish to have your Tyler back?” Avery sighed and glanced out the window to the apartment. He saw nothing, not even a weirdo looking from the other apartments across the street. He found himself starting to cry, with a rush of hidden memories coming back to him, but now worse, for they were no longer going to be his memories, but those of the bright young boy he had fallen so deeply in love with.  
“Avery?” The voice asked. “Would you give anything to get him back?”  
“Anything and everything.” There was no hesitation in his voice. “What I went through... I can't bear to have HIM go through. I love him too much and I want to just hold him again and tell him 'it's okay!' I want... I wan... I...” Avery broke down and cried. “NO! This can't be happening!”  
“It happening again, Avery Jones. And he's with Isaac.”  
His tears froze on his face just as his blood frozen within the red river that was his body. “No. Not possible.”  
“Isaac is his trainer.” The voice spoke again.   
“NO!” He screamed, throwing the machine off the table, and throwing his own head down on it and sobbing. That sick bastard.... there was no way fate could be this cruel! A situation like this meant there was no such thing as justice! It was just so.... so horrible!  
“That was pointless, Avery.” The machine, despite being banged up by the fall, continued to function.   
“Fuck you! If you know where he is, why haven't you called the cops!!!”  
The machine laughed. “The cops? Are you serious? By the time they'd reach the facility, the crew and their slaves would be long gone, hauled off to another location, safer and more secure than the last. Then Tyler and all the other boys would be out of our reach forever.”  
Avery wiped his eyes at the thought. “Then why me, aside from being in love with him? What do you need me for?”  
The machine sighed. “I am an old man now. I am past my prime. I am of no use in the physical world. You, on the other hand, Mr. Avery Jones, are the perfect vessel for which I shall exact my revenge. You carry a knife on you at all times, so you feel safe.”  
This was true. Avery felt ashamed for holding it while they spoke.  
“You've studied marksmanship and Krav Maga, and you have forged your body into a strong, powerful engine of locomotion. What you lack, Avery Jones, is the resolve to carry out the acts which you must be willing to commit on these people, and the knowledge of where and whom to strike down. Let me be your mind, and you be my body, and together we will put the demons of the past behind us for good, and preferably six feet under.”  
“I said I will give anything! Now tell me where to find Tyler!”  
“No.” The voice was firm on this. “You are not ready, nor are you in a rational state of mind to go in and fight the entire facility. I want to test you first. There is a woman in particular that I want destroyed. She took something from me, a short time ago. And now she must be made to pay for her crimes.”  
“ANYTHING, I will give anything!”   
“Good, Mr. Jones. Because what you must do is not for the faint of heart.”


	3. Crossing the Rubicon

"If only there were evil people somewhere committing evil deeds, and it were necessary only to separate them from the rest of us and destroy them. But the line dividing good and evil cuts through the heart of every human being."  
-Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn

He didn't remember Hell being such a horrible place, but it was worse than the first time he was down here. He was fighting through a narrow canyon, where a shallow stream of human blood flowed deeper into the earth. At the end lay his destination, a crater where the serpent beast awaited his arrival. It would pay dearly with the Truesteel of Heaven sliding into his guts and fucking him with the cosmic power of the Lord. Avery roared in the Tongue of Babel, swinging his flamberge hard at the swarmling demons that burst from the bleeding hot obsidian glass beneath his feet. Glowing hot like lightning, his blade cleaved them easily into two halves that burst into thunderbolts of demonic dust.  
Several men barreled at him on the cliffs above, jumping down and landing on their feet heedless of gravity or pain. They wore the white uniforms of male nurses, which burst as they turned into monsters of wolf-like features; yet they were so wrongly shaped they would never be mistaken for a normal wolf or dog up close. Avery's seven wings burst from his back, each with feathers tipped in steel and bursting with glittering solar dust. Like hot steel through frozen water, and with sightless swiftness the seven weaponized wings flew through the lycanthropic men, fucking scalding sizzling holes in their bodies and making them howl, yalp and scream as they slowly died in agony. Avery felt no pity; thus was the ultimate fate of the Damned.   
He reached the ledge leading up the crater as a carpet-chorus of snakes made their way to him, singing softly and beautifully of God and all the things of creation. They were lead by a prancing bloodstained bull with six golden orbs for eyes that wept tears of yellow-green pus, six erect phallic horns that oozed cum, and six toothless mouths that constantly gorged thick steaming blood.   
“Never tempt me with vain things!” Avery shouted. “Drink the poison yourself!” And with a flash of holy light, a nova of angel-steel feathers eviscerated the serpents, who eerily cried like human infants as they thrashed in their death throes. The bull, containing an impossible amount of biological liquid, burst open from the flanks, spewing blood-semen-piss-vomit everywhere and dissolving the rocks beneath it's bile-colored cloven hooves. In Tyler's voice it bellowed “No Avery you're hurting me!!”

He screamed as he woke, and fell out of his bed, tangled in the sheets that were sticky and cold from his stressful sweat. It had not been a good night, and the twilight of the early morning sun, still blue with the dark of last, was beginning to show. But that wasn't the worst part either. There was a small object on the nightstand. An object he didn't own, and did not place there last night. It looked like a bluetooth set, but was small and black.   
“What the fuck....” He glanced around, jumping to his feet and assuming a defensive stance, arms ready, eyes alert and adrenaline flowing. He made his way around his apartment, checking in the bathroom, living room, kitchen, any place a human being could hide. He found himself in a killing mentality, which despite the current events he had been thrust into, still gave him chills. He checked both the door and the windows, and all of them were locked securely. His door had two deadbolts, even; getting in was impossible without a key. He began to check the cupboards, fridge, freezer, microwave and oven, in case someone was hiding in them. Bathroom cabinets were searched, the shower was scoured, and he even lifted the toilet seat... then felt retarded.   
Going back to his room, he grabbed his cell phone from the charger and prepared to call in sick. He saw that he had a new message, though. “Stop looking for me. I'm not in your apartment.”  
“THE FUCK!” Avery shouted in fear and frustration. “You're fucking creepy!!”  
“Lol if I had a nickle for every time I heard that.”  
“What is the plan?”  
“First you must sleep. You are not thinking clearly, nor will you have the energy for tonight. Go back to bed now, for later you must do what you must do.”  
“I can't sleep knowing they are hurting Ty.”  
“But sleep you must. What were you dreaming about?”  
“I was in Hell. I killed Tyler.”  
Several minutes passed since he sent the last text. “I am sorry to hear that. It must have been horrible, and you have my sympathy, Avery Jones.”  
“Wow... I did not expect that.”  
“I'm an honorable man, and I fight for those who's love is strong and true. Know this, Avery Jones, for in this, I am your greatest ally.”  
“No offense, but you're still creepy.”  
“You will get used to it. They always get used to it, lol”

***

It had been a rough night. The new boy.... something was off about him. Isaac had a a weird feeling, like something was seriously amiss. He hated not knowing these things, and the speculations of his mind were mostly unpleasant. He extinguished his fat cigar and looked through his records, trying to find where Gale and Cory were so he could pay them. It had also not been a pleasant night because the rules were violated. A knocking sounded. “Come in.” Isaac leaned back in his chair and hoisted his boots up. His face was one of not giving a flying fuck, mixed with a healthy dose of agitation.   
“Sir Isaac, good morning.” Gale gulped. When Cory didn't come home last night, he knew something was up. Gale was a skinny young man, fit like a runner, with spiked blond hair. He wore a sweatshirt and jeans, and carried a satchel slung over his shoulder. His eyes were terrified; not for his own safety with the psychopath at the desk, but for his lover's.   
“Good morning, boy. Tell me, do you LIKE working for Mr. Wilson?” Isaac scowled.  
“Of course, sir! I just couldn't get in last night to get the money. Please tell me Cory behaved himself?”  
“He is NOT allowed in this facility! That was the order, and you have violated it once again, you miserable fuck!”  
“Sir, please he knows he's not allowed near the boys! I made him prom-”  
“Shut the fuck up.” Isaac commanded. “I had him locked down. I can risk another infection. Motherfucking God, do you know how much money we lost on that boy?”  
“I'm sorry, I didn't use good judgement.”  
“Fuck yes you didn't!” Isaac sat up in is chair and rubbed his temples. “….Fuck, that boy took MONTHS to break, and then you made me slit his fucking throat because none of our customers want some AIDS faggot. $64,000 of merchandise, soaked in lye.”  
“Sir, please I'm so sorry.”  
“I'm docking your pay. Maybe that will teach you.”  
“Sir, no! We need that money badly!” Gale got jumpy; he leaned in braced himself on the edge of the desk where Isaac was seated. “Please, Cory's meds ran out several days ago.”  
“You should just kill him and save yourself the trouble. I'll even loan you my shotgun if your balls have finally dropped.”   
“Fuck off!” Gale roared. He regretted saying that when, before he could even see the master and react, his head was grabbed and slammed face-first into Isaac's desk. “Gahfuck!”  
“Don't. You. EVER. Speak to me like that, CUNT.” Isaac pushed Gale's face deeper into the wood grains. “You're only still working here because I don't want to expend the effort to kill you both. And you get results. But that is ALL that matters to me. I don't give a horse's hole about your AIDS or your other faggot bullshit.”  
“I'm sorry sir.”  
“You are a fucking insect. Nothing more!” Isaac released him. “That's $10,000 I'm docking from you. Mr. Wilson was very impressed with Number 77 and appraised him high, so you still get a generous sum of 4k.”   
“Thank you sir. It is enough for us.” Gale started to cry. The bills were piling up, but it wasn't enough to maintain a secure nest egg and still be able to go out and get the ring he wanted. Still, they could live for a couple months on that... before they needed to go out and snatch another.  
“AIDS is in block B, cell 4. The door isn't locked, and he's tied up good. He might have a dislocated shoulder, but I really don't fucking care.” He handed Gale the stacks of bills, and Gale fit them in his satchel, a smile of joy on his face. The greenbacks to him seemed like such a necessary evil. He needed to live, and to keep Cory alive and healthy, but the misery these slips of paper... he felt sometimes it wasn't worth the price. Sometimes.  
“Thank you sir. It will not happen again.” Gale nodded and left, heading down the halls to the cells. They scared the fuck out of him. The sounds of the boys screaming as they were tortured always haunted his nightmares for days afterwards. He kept his head down- he made the mistake of looking inside one time as a stubborn slave boy was having shards of glass removed from his flesh by the orderlies. Isaac had later bragged about it, inhumanly and soulessly mocking the boy's voice “Mommy! Mommy! What a fucking fag.”   
It was strangely silent this day. But then again, there were so few of them this time. Most had been broken and sold to God-only-knows-where, and few stubborn souls clung to freedom, or the cells stood empty. The Snatchers had plenty of room, just no product, it seemed.   
He hated his job, but it was the only thing keeping him and Cory together. Cory's medication was expensive, and they had no where else to go but their old, broken slum home on the outskirts of the city. He glanced up, daring himself to brave the horrors, and surely found Cell 4 almost as soon as he reached Block B. He saw Cory, strung up by the wrists, sitting on his knees on a bench. His back was arched forward forcefully, with his shoulders at a painfully high angle. A chest harness conflicted with his shoulders, and it must have been horribly, horribly painful, for it made Gale gasp in terror.   
Entering the room proper, he saw that Cory's ankles were crossed and bound to the bench, while a length of rope around his neck to the bench kept him from adjusting. He wore a black hood with a plug gag shoved in his mouth. The room stank of piss.  
“CORY!” Gale sobbed, empathically imagining the agony his lover was in. He got to work, and it took several attempts at undoing the knots. He pulled out the gag first, and undid the knots on his wrists so that he could lower Cory's arms.   
“Gale.... you smell nice.” Cory gasped. He was hurting, and his mouth was dry and cottony.   
“I fucking hate Isaac.” Gale was furious. The ropes frustrated him to no end, and he wished he had brought a knife with him. “This was not necessary!”   
“It's better, you're here.” Cory joked. “I don't mind being tied up with you here.”  
“Cory, we'll get you home... did you... um, piss?”  
“I've been here so long, I'm sorry.” He hung his head in shame.   
“ALL NIGHT?!” Gale clapped his hand over his own mouth, trying not to scream in rage at how they had treated his lover. “I hope God has a special place in Hell for Isaac.... Can you move?”  
“I'm fine. I just want water, my bed, and you.” Cory's hazel eyes fluttered in the light as the hood came off his face. He wore just his black briefs and it looked like he had no other injuries. He wrapped his arm around his lover; Gale recoiled, but tried to hide it. His beloved's wondrous scent was contaminated; desecrated by sweat and pee. And Isaac.   
“It's cold, take my sweatshirt.” Gale shucked it off and put it on his stiff partner, before he supported his beloved as they hobbled out of the facility. 

Cory was relaxing in the bathtub, the hot water soothing to his stiff muscles. He was barely awake, and simply let himself lie limp as Gale scrubbed him clean with bodywash and a cloth. “How much did we make?” He asked weakly. Gale lifted his seemingly lifeless, jello arm, scrubbing his armpit. It tickled a bit and he smiled; Gale did it intentionally for Cory's amusement.   
“Only 4k.” Gale sighed, gently bringing his arm down and scrubbing the other pit for him.   
“We can do a lot with that.” He smiled. “Pay off our bills and be done with them, maybe get a new bedframe. Or just a second mattress if it's cheaper.”  
“Shhh.” Gale put his noggin on Cory's, bringing his arm down again. “No more talk about money. It always makes me depressed.” He poured shampoo and massaged it into Cory's scalp, the wet one moaning and groaning in ecstasy.   
“I love you.” He blurted.  
“I love you more.” Gale countered with a wink.  
“Not a chance. I love you more more.”   
“I love you infinity.” 

***

“You will go to the address I left on your countertop and meet with my associate. He's a fit young thing named KJ.” The Mysterious Voice spoke to Avery through the headset. “He'll explain things from there. The woman you are going to find is a succubus named Venus. You can't miss her. Her beauty is enthralling. Which is why I am glad you're gay.” The laughter after made him shiver.  
“Anything I need to know about her?”  
“Yes.” The voice said, pausing for emphasis on the importance of that word. “She's into men who like men. Specifically, those who own male slaves.”   
Avery paused at the traffic light, waiting for it to turn green again. He was nervous and his stomach was in knots. Underneath his semi-casual suit he was sweating. “So I have to convince her I own a slave?”  
“You will have help on that. KJ is very docile and obedient. He'll do whatever you wish him to.”  
“Wait... this makes no sense!”  
“Perhaps some context is in order. KJ originally was a jerk and spurned the love of one utterly devoted to him. I presented young KJ as a gift to that same man who loved him, but instead he rejected him. KJ was originally a nobody, but I have given him a newfound purpose in life.”  
“You sound like a hypocrite, no offense.”  
“You're going to learn, Avery Jones, that in order to defeat the villains, you must become like the villains. KJ is my slave; but he is allowed to live his life and I call upon him when I need him. I do not use him for pleasure, if that is what you are thinking. He is my partner in destroying William Wilson, and that is it. When either I or Wilson perish, KJ is free.”   
“And here I thought you were one of the good guys.”  
The Voice laughed. “Hardly. My means justify my ends. I get results; it is all that matters. And many of my slaves have come to me willingly; they believe in justice as much as I do. So your criticism of my methods means little, Avery Jones.”  
“I'm joking. I'm joking. Say, do you have a name? I feel like I'm talking to a ghost here.”   
“A ghost? Hmmm. Fitting.” The voice chuckled. “You may call me Ghost if you wish.”  
“Okay... Ghost.” Avery said, emphasizing the new name. “Anything else I should know?”  
“There will be a folder at KJ's apartment. In it are photographs of her, as well as those of the six boys who's lives she has destroyed. I want you to look at them and study them. When you confront this woman, I want your visions to remind you that SHE did these things to them.... well, not exactly. She was just the honeytrap that ensnared them. Isaac and the other trainers took care of the rest.”  
“Looks like I'm here.” Avery said, checking his address. The apartment was a few stories up, but it looked like the building exactly.  
“Yes, I can see you down there. Good job.”  
“Stop doing that.” Avery joked, although he wished he would.  
“No.” Ghost replied, cold and emotionless. “Not until you have completed your tasks.”

KJ shoved the sock between Ricky's teeth, and tied off his mouth with a bandana. “So sorry.” He said to the unconscious roommate of his. He cursed himself for being careless. But he left the folder out and Bryce almost saw it's contents; he hadn't expected Bryce to come back home so early; he was supposed to have a date that night. Yet, once again the boys refused to show up. KJ felt like a hellbound dick, since his friend was in such a vulnerable spot and needed his support. Instead, he got a rag-full of chloroform, dirty sock gag and a strict hogtie.   
“Hello?” an unfamiliar voice called out.  
“SHIT!” KJ gasped. “HEY PAL ever heard of knocking?!!” He stood, fists ready, and he immediately regretted tying up his roommate. It looked SO BAD right now....  
“The door was ajar.” Avery responded, hand on his hidden knife. He stepped into the apartment, and looked into the main room area, seeing a black haired, green-eyed young man standing over a hogtied blond boy. “The hell happened here?”  
“Mali principii malus finis.” KJ shook his head.  
“What?” Avery cock-browed.  
“'The bad end of a bad beginning.' Sorry favorite saying. And it fits.” KJ looked him over. “You are Avery Jones?”  
“That's me.”  
“Okay. Would you like a Happy Meal with extra happy?” KJ asked.  
“No, I'd rather have a chili dog. Hold the chili.” He felt retarded as hell for saying the pass-phrase. But KJ suddenly seemed less defensive and more open, so clearly it worked.  
“Can you close my door please? And don't mind Ricky... Oh god I'm gonna have to think of something. He's better off not knowing about my Master.”  
“What do you call him? I call him Ghost.”  
“Hmmph, Master. What else would I call him?” KJ went to the computer desk where the folder was. “Look at these while I take Ricky back to his room. Then I'm to drive you to the club where we should be able to find Venus.”  
While he dragged Ricky back to his room, then rummaged around in his own room for... well whatever he was doing. The older man sat at the table, looking through the photos. Venus herself was quite the beauty. Ghost had not lied. Her skin was blushing white and polished and smooth. She had rich pink lips and bright blue eyes that contrasted with her midnight colored locks of hair. She often kept them tied in a Greek-styled bun, with two strands of curls falling about. She also had tattoos on her biceps and shoulders; Avery thought of pauldrons on a knight's armor when he looked at them. As for her body, she seemed very narrow-waisted with perky breasts, often. She must have been a lover of corsets, he reasoned.   
Peeling back the pages, he came to the boys. All of them were jock-like, athletic, fit and attractive. And young- one of them was only 17, so the file said. Although the first part was easy to get through, the second half involved pictures of them- no, it was not them. These boys no longer had souls because they had perished. But the scars on their bodies told the terrible story of the last hours of their short lives. The worst one by far, was a young man, his lips and eyes sewn shut, with a metallic spear-like weapon thrust through his Adam's apple. Avery, upon realizing what the fuck he was staring at in the picture, ran to KJ's kitchen sink and threw up. The photos scattered in his wake across the floor, the horror-show no longer concealed. The lights themselves flickered, as if deplored by the unholy sight on the floor. They dimmed, no longer as bright as they once were.  
He felt a hand on his shoulder. “I felt the same way.” It was KJ. Wiping the stuff off his chin, Avery glanced back, seeing the young man dressed up for a formal gala. He smelled very good, too, and was clean-shaven with loosely styled hair. “Master told me they took your lover. He showed me a picture. I would kill to get him back, I do not blame you.”  
“I... I don't think I'll be killing anyone.” Avery commented. The thought made him sick. It reminded him of.... no, he wouldn't think about it.  
“Then you're a more righteous dude than I am.” KJ sighed. “I wanna gut that bitch for what she did.” His brutal, yet casual words disturbed Avery. They went back in and picked up the photos, having to stare at them a second time. Avery felt bad memories start to stir and boil; they were like the Titans in Tartarus, pounding away at the prison and killing his compassion for his fellow human being.   
With the folder tucked under his arm. KJ looked at Avery. “We should go. The Master wants Venus tonight. Very badly, I might add. He feels that she's been free to roam around enough. I agree.”  
“We shouldn't kill her, though. She might have information on where they are keeping the other boys.”   
“I hadn't thought of that, actually. Great, we get to torture the bitch before we kill her.”   
“Stop saying shit like that!”  
“Sorry sir.”  
“Don't call me sir.”  
“Master wishes me to call you sir and obey your commands. I am to do anything you desire, within reason.” KJ smiled, a devilish grin from a devilish boy.   
“Okay. Then let's get this over with... speaking of which, how exactly does Ghost want us to do this?”  
“He has a warehouse. I've been there before. We are to take her there.” KJ looked around the kitchen for his keys, speaking clearly as he did so. “You are to go into the bar, and charm the living hell out of her. Bring her out to the car, where I will drive you there.”  
“CHARM her? What the fuck kind of plan in this?”  
“The Master says you must. And you'll figure it out.” KJ smiled. “He has a lot of faith in you.”  
“What the fuck have I gotten into?” Avery asked out loud. KJ only smiled.

The bar was a busy yet sleepy place. It was almost as if it were a bar designed for bankers, lawyers, and suited gentlemen; those who dealt in much money but little in the ways of human empathy. It was classy and ritzy, and Avery felt very out of place. KJ followed behind him, his hands behind his back glancing about. The lighting was dim, and false candles gathered in the center of the tables to gossip and giggle about the narcissistic patrons that drank their fill. A piano player intoned something jazz-like but classy. He looked worn out and pissed about the low amount of tips in the jar.   
Sitting at the bar itself was the woman of the night, the she-demon that was the object of this crusade. Avery had no idea how on Earth he would approach this woman. The thought of talking to a lady had never crossed his mind in his 35 years of existence. Being gay, there was no need.... other than to mutually oggle the cute boys they encountered. He'd rather be in a gay bar trying to pick up a date. There he could talk to any man.... sort of. Tyler was always better at that. Then a thought occurred to him. “KJ, follow me closely and when I say something mean to you, act all apologetic, slave-like and back away. Keep close and watch me. Look distressed and want to please me, even though I keep shooing you away. You got that? I'm going to see if this works.”   
“I like it! As you wish, my sir.” KJ smiled. He glanced in Venus' direction. “God I wanna strangle her right now.”  
“Stay and let me handle this.” Avery said. They began their approach, KJ following behind his new master. Avery was no actor, but for Tyler's sake, he'd get on this woman's good graces if it killed him. He had to, there was no other recourse.


	4. Trapping The Succubus

"She had very red lips and very black eyes, she was built like a greyhound, and had the tongue of the Devil."  
-F. Marion Crawford

Avery approached the counter, where the beautiful woman in front of him was rapt in daydream. He approached with KJ in tow, both of them somewhat nervous about the night's upcoming events with her, assuming everything went as planned.  
Avery cleared his throat and adjusted his tie, grabbing a stool. "Excuse me, madam." He spoke, trying to sound polite. She turned to him, wearing a lovely black dress that was backless and elegant. It had short lacy sleeves that concealed her tattoos but hinted at their existence. She wore a bit of rouge on her cheeks, and it made her seem very alive and radiant. "Is this seat taken?"  
"Nope." she said. "Feel free to take it."  
KJ jumped ahead and pulled the seat out for him. Avery looked at him, dumbfounded and angry. "God, will you just go away? I'm SICK of you!"  
"But sir, please let-"  
"No. GO AWAY. I just want some peace and quiet to myself." Avery adjusted his coat, looking flustered.  
"I'm sorry sir. If you need me-"  
"I DON'T, now LEAVE." He waved him off. He sat down and shook his head.  
"Sir?" Venus asked, half-glancing at KJ.  
"Very long story." Avery rolled his eyes. "That is a radiant dress." He felt Venus neutral look turn to a scowl. "Oh... drat, please don't read into that. I'm not actually into women, sorry."  
Her look turned from scowling to intrigued. "Oh really? Then what, may I ask, are a pair of gay men doing in a straight bar?" Her smile was bright and enticing. Avery saw how easily she could render than hetero male into jello with it.  
"Brandy Alexander, please." Avery signaled the barkeep as he walked past. Turning back to Venus, "Oh I'm just tired of the frilly gay men at the bars. I just would like a normal, decent conversation, not a damn hookup."  
"I'm so sorry to hear that." Venus put her hand on his arm in a gesture of comfort. "I don't usually go to gay bars anymore either, because straight men figured you gays get us all fired up and we'll bed just about any man that admits he's into women."  
"Oh my goodness." Avery shook his head. "I had no idea, hahaha. Straight men are more clever that I thought." he started laughing, for this thought was new to him and genuinely funny. Venus couldn't help but giggle as well.  
"I am Avery, by the way." He held out his hand.  
"Venus." She responded, attempting to shake his hand. She was shocked when he took it and kissed it instead.  
"Oh I'm sorry." Avery turned red. "Did I offend you?"  
"No, not at all!" She protested. "Actually I'm rather shocked. It was very gentlemanly. Thank you, Sir Avery."  
He remembered KJ and kept his role up. "Ugh, please don't call me 'Sir.' My... how do I put this... houseboy back there has been driving me crazy."  
"Houseboy?" She turned to look at KJ, who grinned and fidgeted, but kept staring at Avery. "You know, he's a cutie!"  
"I know. It's why I can't seem to get rid of him. But oh, he- you know, I won't bore you with the details."  
"It's okay, Avery. Sometimes you just gotta get away, right?" She sipped her drink. It was a mint julip, strongly scented.  
"Yes. He is very devoted though."  
"Is he your slave?" She asked. "He kept calling you sir."  
"Um... this is so awkward." That was not acting.  
"Hey, I think it's kind of hot. If he were straight I be spanking that rump til it turned red, among other things...."  
Avery looked at her with raised eyebrows. Mostly because yes, KJ was pretty cute and the thought was quite entertaining.  
"Oh sorry." Venus recoiled, embarrassed.  
"No, no! Don't be. We kind of do that. KJ is a lifetime slave. Very docile and obedient."  
"What's KJ stand for?"  
"Kenneth James." Avery guessed. He knew not that he was actually correct. "I was rather fond of his name. Plus it makes him sound more like a person than just a number."  
"Oh... he's THAT kind of slave." Venus bit her lower lip. "He must have been expensive!"  
"Oh yes. I don't even want to go into that. It's been a love-hate relationship ever since. And there is no return policy."  
"Just curious, what was his number?" She looked at Avery.  
"Oh my... that was so long ago." He was good. It kind of chilled him how easily he could be deceptive. "I think he was Number 61."  
"Sorry, good sir, but 61 was my boy. A kid named Holden." She smirked. "Really eager to please. Kind of young, and not much of a challenge, actually."  
Avery looked at her sideways. "You... know Mr. Wilson?"  
"I know him. Met him a couple times. Kind of a weirdo. Not into women." She sipped her mint julip, her pink lips curled tightly around the straw.  
"So you... what do you do exactly?"  
"I own stocks in various companies. I'm not too proud of them, but I used to work in film... but that was a different era. And I have a lot of investments in William Wilson's enterprise as well. He's been VERY generous to me."  
"You own slaves?" he asked.  
"Oh heavens no. Too much maintenance. Kind of like your little puppy out there. Call him over, he's so cute!"  
Avery, clearing his throat, held up his hand and gestured over. KJ came bounding over like a puppy in waiting, eager to make his master happy. "Yes sir!"  
"KJ. Introduce yourself proper to this fair lady."  
"Hello, mistress." KJ bowed respectfully. "May I kiss your hand, Mistress?"  
She held out her palm, face down. "That you may, boy." Upon kissing her knuckle, she giggled.  
"Thank you mistress. I am KJ, a humble slave of Master Avery's."  
"Do you do tricks, boy?"  
"Mistress, I do whatever my master wishes, and sometimes I do things he didn't ask for, but wanted anyway." KJ was good. Either that or he was enjoying his submissive role for real and not acting at all. "I love to see him pleased with me. Are you happy, Master? Is there anything I can do for you?"  
"You can shut the hell up." Avery groaned. "Holy shit, KJ what I am going to do with you?"  
"Master, you told me not to be inappropriate in public. So I must not speak about punishments."  
"Oh my goodness!" Venus laughed hysterically. "They must have not only broken him early, but totally rebuilt him from the ground up. You are so fortunate, Avery."  
"Begone, boy. Let me enjoy my drink."  
"Yes, Master." he bowed, then bowed to the fair lady. "Mistress, I am honored to meet you. You are quite beautiful, Mistress."  
"A flattering a day keeps the flogger at bay." She smiled.  
"Most clever, Mistress. Call on me if you need me, Master, Mistress."  
The turned around in their barstools, Venus smiling and chuckling as Avery glanced down at his drink. He didn't know quite what to do now. But he had Venus hooked, at least. Now he just had to keep her. "So what do you do for a living, Avery?"  
"I work for a law firm."  
"A lawyer! How exciting."  
"Um, no." Avery turned red. "Just a boring old accountant. Your drink is nearly empty. Let me order you another."  
Venus put her hand on her chest in awe. "You are a true gentleman, Avery. It's a crying shame that you're not into women."  
"I believe it makes for better conversation that way, my dear Venus. Barkeep, another mint julip over here, please!" He turned back to her. "So tell me... what do you do for fun? Aside from drink alone at this fine establishment."  
"I don't always drink alone. Sometimes I have men. Older men who shower me with affection and treat me like a princess, and younger men who treat me like a wild animal."  
"Ouch. You have my sympathy on the younger men. Barbarians. Everyone of them."  
"Even KJ?"  
"Well, no. He's actually pretty civil. Just won't leave me the hell alone." KJ was smiling, and still waiting for an order to be followed.  
"I'm impressed with him, I must say. He's so willing, it's like he forgot his old identity all together. Who was his trainer? Do you know?"  
"Not his real name. The man calls himself Ghost."  
"Ghost?" She asked, cock-eyed. "I've never heard of him before. He must be new. They've had this one trainer who's …. hmm... I don't think 'monstrous' is a fitting term. But it's the best I got. But he's and old man and a real hard-ass. On everyone. Of course, he's polite to me, because one word from me can get Sir Wilson to rip him a new asshole."  
"I believe I met him once...." Avery was treading on dangerous ground, and his memories stirred. "What an unpleasant man. Isaac, right?"  
"Oh, shit yes. He has a wife and son, you know. What woman marries that kind of creature is beyond me, and she reproduced with him too. Yuck.... are you okay? You look troubled."  
"Headache. Brought by him."  
"Call him over again. Maybe a punishment will help." She giggled innocently, yet deviously.  
"No I meant Isaac." Avery interjected, and Venus burst into laughter. "And yes, a punishment on him would help. But I don't think I can think of something awful enough for him."  
Her next mint julip arrived. "Does he EVER misbehave?"  
"Sadly, no. I punish him only for annoying me."  
"Oh holy lord, really? Ghost must be AMAZING at training boys. I want to meet him, actually. Compare techniques."  
It was the opening he had been waiting for. "well, if you want..."  
"...You KNOW where to find him?" She leaned in, very hopeful.  
"I have his number." Avery smiled. "But you must excuse me. I have to use the restroom. I will give him a call on my way out."  
"Can I play with KJ while you're gone?"  
"What? Certainly! There's no need to ask, my dear." He gestured for KJ to come over, who returned in seconds.  
"Yes, sir?"  
"Entertain this fair lady and do what she says. I'll be back."  
"Yes sir!" KJ slipped into the barstool and began chatting away with the lovely deadly damsel. He entered the back near the kitchen and made his way down the narrow hallway to the men's room. Along the way he got a text. It was Ghost.

Finishing his business, Avery stepped out of the restroom, and as if on cue, he received a call from Ghost. "You have to stop doing that."  
"You have an impressive dick, Avery Jones. It is impossible to look away." The Voice was chuckling happily, despite the encryptions and disguising of the voicebox.  
"How... Forget it. What do we do now?"  
"Stay on the phone and go back to her. I shall speak to her myself. You have wormed your way under her skin totally. Beware, though. She has a gun in her purse."  
Suddenly things didn't feel so fun anymore. "...what?"  
"Seriously, Avery, you didn't think of this?" The Voice said, flustered. "No you did not. You must stay calm, for when the time to strike is near, you must not make a mistake."  
"Shit."  
"Shit indeed, Mr. Jones." The Voice responded. "But bring me to Venus. I would like to talk to her. She sounds articulate and fascinating." Avery obeyed, coming back to the bar, but he did not find KJ or her sitting there. Looking around, he didn't see them anywhere.  
"No way.... How..."  
"At a table several feet straight in front of you. No, more left. There you go."  
Avery began walking towards the table "I think I'm getting used to this."  
"Good. It will save us time in the long run." Ghost said coldly. As Avery approached the table, he saw KJ on his knees, with Lady Venus herself lounging in a chair. It was darker than the dimly lit bar normally was in the back, so they had a measure of privacy. Avery saw KJ tilt his head back as Venus foot, bare and free from her black stiletto, moved south down his face before her toes went into his mouth. He began to suck on her toes, and she smiled. "You are a lovely slave, boy."  
"Aunnk uuummm Muuummmstummm." KJ moaned as he sucked on her toes. It was an odd, odd sight. She saw Avery approach with the phone, and her eagerness was astounding. She relinquished his phone as they began to chat.  
"Why hello, Sir Ghost." She pulled her foot out of KJ's oral hole and ignored him completely. KJ turned to Avery, eager and smiling.  
"Stop doing that." Avery commanded.  
"Sorry. Is there anything I can do you for you, sir?"  
"No. Just wait." Avery waited for several minutes, watching Venus with intensity. He noticed she had a mini purse on her, and it was conveniently big enough for a pistol. She seemed very engaged in her conversation with Ghost. In many ways he was jealous. Ghost would tell him a lot of things, but what he was saying to her, he didn't know.  
"I do absolutely love the sound of a gagged man begging for mercy, good sir." KJ and Avery noticed she was starting to touch herself. "It's DIVINE.... oh yes those are the best! No way... you mean it?!!" She about screamed. "Alright we'll see you there."  
"Pardon?" Avery asked as she closed his cell phone. Handing it excitedly back as she attempted to put on her heel again, she looked very dorky. She turned to KJ instead, lusty fire in her eyes.  
"Your trainer would like to show me a few things. He's heard a lot of about me and wants to compare notes, so to speak." Venus beamed, quite pleased with herself. "Provided this is alright with you, sir." She turned to Avery.  
Avery gulped down his nervousness. "Very well. Let us not keep Sir Ghost waiting."

***

"OHMYFUCKGODAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!"  
Tyler screamed in agony, falling to his knees. His wrists were cuffed behind him, locked in place via a leather restraining device that connected to a collar around his neck. He also wore a pair of thick black mitts to prevent any manipulation behind his back. Not that he had much chance to do so, for the shocks prevented him from thinking clearly.  
For a fiendish motley of devices were placed upon his body. Electrodes on his nipples, a bizarre, horrifying device encircled his cock and balls; it looked like a modified shock collar that was designed and patented by demons. And oh how much it hurt! The sting of a nest of hornets would have been much more merciful. Attached via straps to the device up front, a massive electrified butt plug had been inserted into him. As if that really wasn't enough, more electrodes had been placed on the inside of his thighs, along the back of his hips, and on the tops of his feet. Those hurt the worse, and it took continuous effort to keep standing.  
Sitting in a recliner, next to an end table with a set of remote controls, while drinking a beer that made his breath smell of fermented pig piss, Isaac grinned as his new slave screamed. He had been rubbing the zipper of his pants, quite enjoying himself, truth be told.  
"So tell me again, Number 77. What did you mean earlier by 'breaking ALL the boys'?"  
"That you haven't, sir." Tyler let himself grin a small grin.  
"I beg to differ, slave." He pressed the button.  
BBBZZAP! "FFFFUUUUCCCCKKK!!!!" Tyler fell on his ass, screaming "FUCK!" as the butt plug inserted itself deeper, it's base widening his back entrance pretty considerably. It stung and tears flowed more freely; he was sure he had cut one of the walls on his sphincter.  
Isaac stood up, standing over the fallen boy on his side. "Oh, yeah. I forgot. Are you gonna submit to my rule?"  
"You can't break me." Tyler protested, only to have Isaac's massive boot come down on his neck.  
"You will break. I guarantee it." Isaac said coldly. "EVERY boy I've met has submitted eventually. Some more quickly than others; those are the smart ones. Don't be a dumbass, boy."  
"I'm still free-eee I'm still- HUCK!" The boot ground itself into Tyler's neck.  
"I'm in a good mood tonight, Number 77. I will make you a deal." Isaac smiled, although it was not a friendly one; it was more like the smile one would receive from the neighborhood creepy molester, assuming the viewer was young and innocent.  
"I'm listening, sir." Tyler sat up, a difficult task with his sore muscles. He stretched his neck to try and comfort the sore muscles and bone.  
"Tell me what you know, and I will let you have a nice lunch tomorrow. You will be clothed, washed, and fed. But you must tell me everything you know. If you don't, I will revoke my deal."  
Tyler thought about it for a minute, seeing the Master before him tapping his boot impatiently. As much as he hated to put Avery in danger, he was starving and dehydrated, and filthy as well. "The boy you failed to break is Number 19."  
"Holy...." Isaac composed himself. With this particular boy, he needed to stay focused on the task at hand. "That was... a fucking long-ass time ago." Tyler said nothing, looking away as Isaac pondered the past. "How do you know this?"  
"Number 19 is my boyfriend." Tyler beamed, his eyes reflecting the lights from the walls. As they were windows into his own soul, Isaac met his gaze, seeing a... emboldened determination, unlike any he had seen before. "I saw his scar. The one YOU gave him."  
"Holy fucking shit..." The revelation struck him hard. One of his slaves had escaped from his master, but so long ago.... He remembered little of the boys from his early days. They were all the same; he thought he should have remembered one that would not break more clearly. But they always broke in the end, he swore it. But one... he did carve his number into the flesh with a letter opener. So that the boy would always remember who he was. Mr. Wilson had not been pleased with the damage Isaac had done to that particular boy.  
"He loves me, and he's going to come here and rescue me, and fucking kill your sorry ass. JUST YOU WAIT!" Tears of hope began to be made in Tyler's eyes.  
"Ah, poor 77, he's forgetting a small, crucial detail."  
Tyler looked at him, confused. Then Isaac pressed the button again. Tyler's soul-numbing screams drowned out the diabolic chorus that, had Isaac an actual soul, it would have been considered laughter.

***

The studio was built within the confines of a warehouse, locked behind a series of doors. KJ went up to them, going ahead of the pair of masters behind. The keypads had different codes, which KJ memorized and easily opened so that the doors unlocked. Avery had a very, very bad feeling about things; it was as if he were in the pitch black gullet of some rocky murder-beast.  
Venus showed no signs of fear, only excitement at getting to meet a man who could destroy and remake a boy's personality with finesse and panache. Avery got a sinking feeling that she had entered many darkened dungeon facilities in her lifetime....  
They came to a room, a large open space where the ceiling was high, and crates were stacked about twice the height of man. KJ stopped in a clearing of the boxes, large enough for several forklifts to move around. He stood in the center of the room, and looked up at the ceiling, and began to unbutton his jacket.  
"Master! It's me, your servant KJ. I come here on my own free will and submit myself to your whim and your pleasure." Seeing this, Venus was astounded. It was as if KJ were not a man enslaved to another, but a worshiper in thrall to a god. Avery's eyes went wide, a huge detail he had overlooked, but Venus gave no sign of noticing. He hoped she didn't. The loudspeaker came to life, and like a god, the voice of Ghost resounded throughout the chamber. "Welcome, my servant. And I see you have brought guests. We shall give them quite a show."  
KJ turned around, removing his jacket. Three men, wearing demon masks, burst suddenly and wordlessly from the shadows, Carrying devices with them. They swarmed upon KJ, who smiled and never stopped locking eyes with Venus. The men stripped him of his clothing, even his boxer briefs underneath, with speed and sensual dexterity. His arms were forced behind him, bound in leather cuffs as chains criss-crossed his chest. Padlocks flew in all directions, connecting them in a tight pattern of binding on him. His legs were also entwined... er, enchained... A demoniac came behind him, gripping KJ's face and yanking it around by the hair, then shifting to grip his jawline firm. His partner slammed a piece of silver duct tape over KJ's mouth, and a blindfold encircled his face within milliseconds of the gag's landing. The demoniac in front pushed him into the arms of the one in back, and they carried him like a human log towards the Pleasure Chamber within the maze of crates.  
The third demoniac bowed. "Master, Mistress. My Master wishes an audience. Follow me if you please."  
"This is formal and weird, but exciting!" Venus was breathing heavily, almost on the verge of orgasm. Seeing KJ so willingly surrender and be chained up in an impossible-to-escape binding, even Avery was very, very turned on. He tried to maintain focus, and didn't know if the men in the demon masks would help him take down the wicked woman at his side. It was most unfortunate that, when they arrived in the chamber, with KJ bound in chains on the table before them, chains connecting to the table, latching out like the tendrils of some stainless steel beast to attach to the chains around his torso. The only limb he could move was his cock, which jutted up from him like a flag placed on a high hill for all armies to see.  
Venus could barely contain herself, she ran over to KJ and began to run her long fingernails over the exposed parts of his flesh. Avery, meanwhile, tried to find a way to get the purse away from her. He didn't see much of an option. She held it tight. He did notice, however, that the third demoniac was locking the other two onto St. Andrews Crosses, their faces hooded, but their clothing gone, save for black jockstraps. The demoniac inserted a plug gag into his sub's mouth, buckling it behind his head. He rubbed the genitals, making the slave moan in delight. It was wordless, yet the exchange spoke volumes. The masked demoniac bowed, and left the room, locking the metallic door behind him.  
"THREE slaves?" Venus cheered like a rich girl in a shoe store. Avery felt his stomach drop. KJ was bound up, and the other slaves were as well. There was simply no way he could get them free to help. And the thought of a gun-toting woman of low moral standards in the same room as him didn't sit well. "Ghost, what are you planning?" He muttered under his breath. Venus was too hyper and giggly with the slaves on the wrack to notice.  
"What a LOVELY studio you have here, Avery!... It is your studio, right?"  
"No. It belongs to Ghost."  
"Oh silly me I forgot. That happens when I have a room full of tied up men, all gagged and moaning. MOAN BITCHES!" She commanded in a shrill tone, and immediately the three men moaned into their gags, a horny cacophony that reverberated off the concrete walls.  
"Glad to see you are enjoying the show, Lady Venus." The voice spoke over the intercom.  
"Yes indeed, Sir Ghost!" Venus said, looking around. "Won't you show yourself, I'd love to meet you in person."  
"In time, my dear. In time. Until then, I have a special film I would like to show you. You will love it, I promise." The lights dimmed, and a massive white screen was lowered. The projector came to life, clicking away as the film progressed. Sure enough, it was a porno. A man tied spread-eagle between two beams, ball-gagged and hooded, naked as the day he was born with a large ball-weight tugging on his genitals. From out of nowhere, a cat-o-nine-tails swiped him across the chest, and the screaming muffled moan was loud and furious. Avery said nothing, trying to see if he could get the purse away from her. The whipping progressed, and progressed, Venus feeling herself through her dress as the man moaned. KJ and the others did so as well, adding additional background nose to it all. Because she was standing nexto KJ, she began to stroke his cock and play with his balls, while rubbing and feeling herself. Avery, standing by her opposite of the chained boy, saw an opening. Her purse was wide open, and her eyes were enthralled perfectly.  
"So hot..." She commented.  
"I know." Avery moaned, pretending he was enjoying this. The Master in the film, whoever he was, was now worshipping the nipple of the bound man. Avery felt the rim of her purse. She didn't notice, and he went in, feeling blindly for the gun. Suddenly the film changed to another scene, one of a screaming young man tied to a St. Andrews Cross. Avery had heard gagged sounds like this before, but it was unlike the others. The view was behind the man, and it slowly panned around. The view of the face was unclear but the torso.... the body was sliced in places, with blood flowing freely. Avery gasped when he saw exposed muscle with a triangle of flesh removed. The face, though... was familiar yet terrible.  
"What the fucking hell?!!" Venus cried. The eyes were bloody and sewn shut with black thread, and the lips were as well. The boy in the film was screaming and screaming. Avery noticed that a bolt held his head perfectly still as well... He looked away quickly, pulling the gun out of her purse. He heard only a disgusting, vomit-inducing sound of steel cutting through flesh, enhanced by the sick mind that made this film so it was louder and more revolting... the sound.... the God-less sound of the boy gurgling on blood.... There would be no sleep tonight.  
"What.... where did you !!!" Venus screamed and backed away. Then she saw Avery with her gun. "What..."  
"Venus, do you remember Holden?" Ghost asked over the intercom. The film's sound has ceased. She stared, emotionless and frozen. "That was him."  
"No.... no, shit... I didn't know... I am so sorry!"  
Ghost boomed again. "DO NOT LIE TO ME YOU FILTHY CUNT!! Look at this." It cut to another scene... this one was much earlier. The boy, Holden, was struggling in his bonds, trying to get away. A clamp of sorts held his lips together. Then he saw a woman's hand with a needle and a thread. Holden cried, pleaded, and tears were streaming. He shook his head as much as the bolt holding it down would allow him.  
"You've been a naughty boy." A very, very, very familiar voice spoke. It was her, no doubt. The scene was panned out enough to show her face and her wide, soulless smile. "Naughty boys don't deserve to speak." She then inserted the needle and the very muffled scream tore a hole in Avery's heart. Whatever sympathy he held for her.... evaporated in the dispassionate sun.  
"Avery, please, I was forced to make that!" Venus pleaded. Avery leveled the gun at her.  
"All six of those boys..." Avery said, dark revelations circling in his mind like shadowy ghosts. "Ghost, did she do that?" He aimed for center mass.  
Ghost was silent for a few crucial seconds. "Yes. She made five more films with them. Stay your hand, Avery Jones. Venus, before you die, I want you to know something."  
"NO! Please I don't wanna die!" Venus looked up at the intercom, tears coming down her eyes and panic on her breath.  
Ghost spoke to her again. "You took from me the one thing I loved the most. Holden was my SON.... My beautiful son, and my only son. You extinguished the light in my world, Venus. Onto this, what do you say?"  
"I.... I didn't know! I swear I'm so sorry!" She fell to her knees and begged. She prayed, for the first time in her life, but to Avery, the man with the gun.  
"It is too late for that. Your path was poorly chosen, and now you must face the music." Ghost spoke to her for the final time. "Kill her, Avery."  
"NO!" She cried. "Avery... please don't do this... you're such a nice man!"  
Avery just gave her a cold glare. "You don't deserve to live."  
Six times he pulled the trigger, and six times the bullets did rend and tear her flesh, spilling her wicked blood upon the pavement and the wall opposite her standing position. Six times the ghosts of the boys danced in her failing senses, taunting her, mocking her for all the horrible things she had ever done to them. Six times she screamed to the silent God she had forsaken, until the light of her soul fell empty from her eyes, and her body fell backwards and on it's side, wallowing like a dead pig in a puddle of dirty blood.  
Ghost roared on the intercom in triumph. His sigh was heard by all, and the bound, fearful slaves moaned and struggled in the dark with him. "They say.... revenge... is a terrible thing. But I find it to my liking, Avery Jones. You are worthy, and you are ready now."  
Avery could only stare at the corpse in silence. And then he vomited his guts onto the floor.


	5. Ryan's Gift

"My candle burns at both ends  
It will not last the night.  
But ah, my foes,  
And oh, my friends -  
It gives a lovely light."  
-Edna St. Vincent Milay, "First Fig"

The orderlies were busy scrubbing things up in the facility. For THE BOSS was coming to visit. Grey walls were hit with sponges, cloths cut deep into corners, and floors were assailed with mops. Orderlies ran down the hallways with brooms held forward like lances. Buckets bobbled and bubbled back to and back from watering stations with speedy efficiency. The cells were cleaned up good. The orderlies had an easy time cleaning Tyler's cell, for the mattress had been removed. Standing near the drain on his knees, hands cuffed behind his back, with a giant funnel in his mouth; one arced upward in front of his face and held in place by a strap around his forehead, Tyler was covered in his own excrement. The constant shockings had first caused him to lose control of his bladder, pissing all over the floor, much to Isaac's sick pleasure. When he was given water later, it was mixed with soap, causing him to uncontrollably shit out his guts only a few hours later. His throat was like cotton stuffed in a pipe; dry and burning was his vocal cords. To add insult to injury, Isaac had, before calling it a night, came in and pissed in the funnel, forcing him to drink and swallow. He puked, but the arc of the funnel forced it back into his mouth and down his throat, making him vomit again. So disgusted and filthy, he simply dropped his head down on the pavement, face-first into a pool of his own piss. But the funnel drained, as he wretched more and more and more until all he had was pure bile and emptiness.  
He smelled horribly; he had not been allowed to shower or be cleaned the last two days. His eyes were red from crying all the time, and his body ached. Sleep was difficult and uncomfortable, but he tried to, because when he dreamed, he was with Avery again. Avery would make everything better, he knew. He knew Avery was coming for him. He had that scar, and he knew how terrible things were going to get. Avery would not forget about him.  
There was a nagging thought in the back of his mind, though, that his beloved would never find him. He kept trying to dismiss it. He also forced himself to keep pushing his bowels, but he felt that there was nothing left. It had been a very long night. His vision was beginning to swim. But he kept his head high, metaphorically speaking. ("Sandy beaches with cute boys playing volleyball.... Avery reading a book under an umbrella, being a stiff about running around and getting into trouble.... us cuddling under a towel because the sea is cold....")  
The door latches began to turn. He turned to face it, seeing the faces of two young looking men instead of the Bearded Lucifer. One was skinny, kind of nerdy looking with glasses. He wore a simple outfit of rubber short-shorts and a form-hugging rubber T-shirt with very short sleeves. His hair was short and dark. He must have been a slave because he was forced to wear a shock collar around his neck. He carried a cloth and two water bottles in his hands.  
The other boy was taller, more muscular, and looked like a varsity swimmer. Maybe it was the jammers he wore, along with his flip-flops. His hair was shaggy but maintained and his eyes were dark blue. He had a perfect combination of softness and hard muscle. It seemed weird that these two boys would be working here. And strangely, the blond boy wore no collar.  
"Eeew!" The nerdy one winced. "Oh my god, the Master.... brutal!"  
The blond scoffed. "Number 77 chose his fate, 71. Remember that."  
Tyler glared at the blond. Clearly they were not going to get along. The boy known as 71 and the blond bent down to help him stand up. He noticed that the blond had both a bucket of water and a pack of baby wipes. "We're here to clean you up, Number 77. Please be compliant."  
"Mmmmaaa." Tyler, sleepy eyed, obeyed.  
"I will remove this." The blond pointed to the funnel. "Please do not mouth off to me. I do not have to remove the funnel if I don't want to. I'm doing this as a courtesy. Please know that."  
Tyler nodded. The straps came off, and a massive blob of drool erupted as the hard, rubbery plastic came out of his mouth. It was an ugly, mutated color; blood and bile mixed with clear spit. The strap around his head was removed, and the funnel was placed on the ground. Aaron was disgusted by it. Isaac had not bothered to wash it out, leaving it barf-flavored all night for Tyler.  
The dark-haired nerdy slave twisted the cap on a water bottle. "No soap this time, promise." He smiled, and it was surprisingly friendly and warm.  
"...Thank you." Tyler swallowed the water.  
"Swish." The blond commanded. Tyler did, getting the barf and piss particles out of his mouth, and aiming it down the drain. He felt relieved. Very relieved, his voicebox not longer saturated with dust. Aaron glanced down at the funnel. "I'm going to have that washed. Maybe burned. Yeck. Take care of him, 71."  
"Will do don't worry Aaron-, er, crud 67." With that, the blond departed and the slave got to work cleaning Tyler off.  
"Aaron. That's a beautiful name." Tyler commented.  
"Oh yes. I'm Ryan, by the way." the boy said. "But don't tell anyone I told you that. I could get in trouble." Tyler didn't respond, he just watched the skinny slave work. Taking a cloth and soaking it in the water, of which was still warm with steam, Ryan rubbed Tyler's calves. The warmth felt so good, and he was gentle about it. He moved up and massaged his thigh with the cloth. The stress seemed to fade away almost instantly.  
"Feeling better?" Ryan asked, a twinkle in his eye and a smile between his cheeks.  
"Yes, thank you. Why are you being so nice to me?"  
"Master can be rough. I've been there." Ryan dipped his cloth back in the bucket, wringing out most of the water. "But you can end the pain at any time, just submit, 77."  
Tyler's eyes narrowed. "Never."  
"Why! I hate seeing you getting hurt. Please stop." Ryan was genuinely concerned here, which Tyler noted.  
"Isaac can't own me. I belong to another." Tyler beamed. The thought of Avery's caress was vivid in his mind, so close he could feel it.  
"Don't be silly, 77-"  
"MY NAME IS TYLER!" The bound boy roared. "TYLER SEVERIN DAVENPORT!!"  
"Stop!!" Ryan shouted back. "They'll gag you and let you starve, you know that?"  
Tyler never averted his gaze from Ryan. Not being the dominant type, Ryan had to look away, seeing the determination Tyler had. Something about him made him special. The boy was clinging to a shred of hope with insane zeal. He would suffer greatly. He dipped his rag again.  
Aaron returned, free of the torture device. He strode up to the backside of Tyler, seeing the mess back there. "I can't believe Master Isaac still does this. The damage is always terrible. 71, I'm gonna need him to bend over. Please hold him up."  
"Certainly. I got you, okay hun?" Ryan smelled pretty good as he bent over, Tyler noted. Ryan's hands held his shoulders steady. They were surprisingly soft and warm from the soothing water.  
Aaron gave Ryan a raised eyebrow, but Tyler nodded and relaxed in Ryan's grip. Pulling out the baby wipes, Aaron got to cleaning his rump. The wipes were cold, and stung his wounds, but Tyler was just grateful someone was not hurting him. He shivered when the cold but fresh wipe reached down to wipe down his balls and cock. Aaron was thorough. That he appreciated.  
"Done. Stand up." The blond commanded. Ryan helped Tyler up, and got back to cleaning the rest of him. He balanced on on foot as Ryan held onto him. Wiping the soles of his feet, Aaron finished his legs. Tyler raised his shoulders and widened his arms so they could scrub his armpits. He felt a lot more fresh than before. He was a clean person and not being able to shower bothered him on a greater level. Aaron felt up his hair. "Still pretty clean. We can shampoo you tomorrow if the Master permits."  
"T- thank you." Tyler glanced back at the blond. "But why are you two doing this? Why are you here?"  
"We are here to serve. We are slaves, nothing more." Aaron said. "Isn't that right, Number 71?"  
"Yes. It is very true." Ryan looked away, down at the floor. They packed up their things. Ryan left first, nodding and smiling at Tyler. Aaron remained behind, out of earshot.  
"You are putting yourself in danger by resisting. Master Isaac is brutal when he wants to be, but if you are obedient he will reforge you into a better person. Your life will be set out before you. You never need to worry about meals, where you will sleep, or what to do with yourself. Free will is a curse upon humanity; we're blessed to be slaves."  
"Isaac wants to own me. I belong to another already."  
"Fucking stupid child." Aaron shook his head. "Your boyfriend is NOT coming!"  
"My boyfriend is Number 19. He escaped from here before. He'll come back for me. He's amazing that way."  
Aaron blinked, struck by the audacity of that statement. He searched Tyler's expression, looking for a bluff but found nothing there. "Those who escape never return. Think logically, Number 77. You can be happy and have your dignity back. You won't be naked."  
"I'll be bare and naked for Avery, than be clothed for that cockfuck Isaac."  
"You are hopeless!" Aaron bellowed. He turned around and pointed to a nasty looking patch of raised skin on his back, to the side of his spinal cord. It was hard to miss and a very skinny oval. "Do you SEE that?"  
"What... what is it?"  
"That's a glass shard. One that Master Isaac refused to have removed, when I disobeyed him years ago. Don't follow that same path!" And he stormed out, his eyes red and puffy. He met Ryan outside, and they walked together, buckets and rags and wipes in hand. Ryan glanced up at Aaron, who's gaze was forward the entire time, fury and hatred visible in his oculars.  
"He's not going to break." Ryan said.  
"He's not going to live." Aaron replied.

***

The Mercedes Benz pulled up the warehouse, taking a detour behind the building and pulling into the hidden garage in the basement of the building. The ramp was a steep drop into the black abyss, protected by a steel door. The entrance was well concealed between the other warehouses on the compound ground. The driver parked in the executive spot near the back entrance, and out of the shadows of the vehicle stepped an old man. Something was off about him, as he walked along the pavement. It was as if the light refused to touch him, and the shadow obscured his face slightly. His hairline had receded heavily, and the neutral expression upon his face betrayed no emotions. His eyes, which at one point may have been royal navy colored, were lifeless ghostly grey. His suit was one of a beige suit worn over a century ago, and showed its wear and tear. Like the man, it seemed untiring, enduring years of hard work to build an empire. An empire who's legacy was a horde of angry, crying ghosts.  
For he was William Wilson, the Master of Masters.  
The orderly doing security for the garage let him in. William Wilson was eager to see his merchandise, especially the new boy, Number 77. He also wished to look over 67 as well, to see if he was truly ready to serve him. He arrived at the office of his finest trainer, Master Isaac, and waited for his arrival. Knowing Isaac, he would not be late for a meeting unless it was very urgent. The Master of Masters checked his phone. No messages, to which he was relieved. It seemed like Venus had been messaging him almost hourly. He welcomed the sudden abrupt stopping in texts and calls.  
Isaac hurried into the room, "William! You old devil, how are things?"  
"Ah, Isaac, good to see you, my friend." William turned around his chair, admiring the light in the eyes of his younger friend and business partner. His voice was soft, inviting, and somehow wise, yet hiding something. If one listened to it long enough, one would have been wondering what his thoughts were, especially concerning the well-being of others and whether or not he enjoyed inflicting pain on innocents.... "How is your boy? Is he well?"  
"Amazingly so." Isaac beamed. "But enough about me, it's been way too long since we talked."  
"I am afraid I can't stay long." Mr. Wilson replied. "Urgent business. Until then, you must tell me of this new boy you've acquired. Number 77, I believe."  
They went walking, slowly down the halls. It was slow progress, for Mr. Wilson would look inside each room and observe that wept within, screamed within as pain was induced, or simply was silent and void. Isaac had told him of how defiant the boy was, and his mentioning of a former slave designated Number 19. Of this, Mr. Wilson perked up greatly. "Ah, yes, young Terry.... that was so many years ago. Cyrus Blair's child. Sold him to me to pay off his debts. Also managed to make his wife's death look accidental and collect well on it." Mr. Wilson chuckled. "Terry was quite the little shit to you. He gave as good as he got."  
"Yes, but he broke eventually." Isaac insisted.  
"....No, he did not." Mr. Wilson smiled. It was the kind of smile that was perfect for getting people to lower their guard before one slides a knife in their ribs. "And you damaged his tender, soft flesh by carving his number into him. A stupid thing to do, Master Isaac."  
"I... I swore he broke."  
"No. He never did. We had to sell him to a man in Montana who got aroused by choking little boys. I forget his name, but he was a regular."  
"What happened after that?"  
"I don't know. Once slaves are out of my possession, I don't keep track of them." Mr. Wilson looked skyward towards the concrete roofing. "I do love this place.... but yes, you never did break Number 19. But didn't your new slave call him something else?"  
"Avery."  
"Hmmm. We had a fit boy named Avery. Football player from the midwest, was going to college here in the city, if I remember. Wanted to be a veterinarian. Very developed muscles. Cute dimples and a beautiful ass. Oh, how I wanted to eat it out." Mr. Wilson closed his eyes, licked his old cracked lips and moaned in fantasy.  
"But wait, what number was he?"  
"Number 26. You broke him easily. He lasted a week and a half until you stuck a lit cigarette on the underside of his penis. Again, a stupid move, Master Isaac."  
"Yes, it was."  
"I meant smoking in the facility. You could have triggered the fire alarm and it would have been a royal clusterfuck." They both laughed. They walked down the hall, their gazes upon the various rooms. "Have you found a buyer for 71?"  
"No." Isaac sighed. "He's just too old. He is very helpful around, though. He talks to the slaves and tries to show them how good they have it here."  
"Yes, yes." Mr. Wilson nodded. "And the boy... Number 77. I hear his skin is smooth and beautiful."  
"Oh yes. And his spirit is.... frightening." They suddenly stopped walking, and the old man turned to face the younger.  
"What is this? Who are you and what have you done to my Isaac?" William Wilson chuckled. "Frightened?"  
"I've never seen anything like it. You'll see it when you look into his eyes."  
"Ah, now I MUST insist I meet Number 77...."

The door locks tumbled and ground themselves, opening up. Tyler had been prepped well for this encounter, his arms hanging loosely above his head in a spreader bar, while his legs were spread apart as well. He was fully exposed to the elements and whomever wished to have a way with him. He fiercely thought of Avery, trying not to give in to fear. Avery, in many ways, had become his symbol, his guiding star in this lightless dungeon. The beacon to which he kept going. But even Avery's light seemed of little use when he saw the man-creature coming to view him.  
He was a skinny man, one so pallid that it made him look ill or possibly vampiric. He thought of Frankenstein, or Dracula, or some other abnormal dead abomination. And this one smiled at him; it was never to be confused with a friendly smile, for the eyes spoke of bad things this man had witnessed and wanted to do to whomever fell in his gaze. "What a lovely specimen, Isaac." He was putting on latex examination gloves. Tyler gulped his terror down and willed himself to remain composed.  
"Why thank you, my good sir." Isaac smiled. Knowledge that the even Devil had a boss sent chills down Tyler's spine. And even through the gloves, the creepy old man had the touch of arctic ice. Tyler squirmed, wiggling away as much as possible, yet the chilling fingers still reached and caressed him against his will.  
"Stop!" Tyler commanded.  
"And it has a lovely voice, Isaac." The man commented as if Tyler weren't even there or a sentient being. "The skin... so delicate and beautiful, it clearly took good care of itself."  
"Don't touch me you fucking perv!" Tyler violently twisted, trying to swing his elbow and hit him. The old man laughed, a wheezing wet labored breeze of air being forced from him.  
"You be respectful!" Isaac commanded, pulling out his riding crop from his hip, like a thin black saber. The old man raised his hand.  
"At ease, Isaac." Mr. Wilson glanced back. "It's only fair that it should be spouting off insults. It's mind has not been shaped yet."  
"I'm a person, you sick fuck!"  
Mr. Wilson stood in front of Tyler, between him and Isaac. "Now, Number 77, I have a question about Number 19."  
Tyler couldn't resist a spark of hope glittering in his eyes. But he held his tongue. The man named Wilson studied him intensely, trying to get a feel for his personality. Tyler guessed it was so he could suck it out of him later. Mr. Wilson cleared his throat "You say the man coming to, ehem, 'save' you is named Avery."  
"Yes. He's big and strong, knows how to wield a knife like a pro, shoot a gun and is a black belt in Krav Maga. You're fucking screwed." Tyler's glare could be felt by Isaac, but the Master let the Master of Masters do his job.  
"Really? That's a pity for us. Good thing he's not HERE, Number 77. But, logically, I doubt he could take on this entire facility. Security is very tight, and anyone trying to get in unauthorized and without clearance would be killed on sight. I do not fool around when it comes to protecting my products, Number 77."  
"Products?! We're human beings you sick fuck!"  
"I love your insults. Please, keep pelting me with spittle and meaningless words. It's making me hard, you know." The old creep laughed, rubbing his crotch. Tyler cringed, and were he not starving, probably would have barfed again. "And yes, you are human beings. But humans are just animals, Really. Very intelligent animals that can be broken, trained and sold just like the rest of the animal kingdom. What makes YOU think YOU'RE so special?"  
Tyler spat in his face, but it came up short and fell to the floor.  
"Oh my goodness, what FIRE." Mr. Wilson laughed and looked back at Isaac. "Who captured this slave?"  
"The couple.... Gale and Cory."  
"Pay them extra! We need more boys like this one, wait.... Cory is the disease, right?"  
"Yes."  
"FUCK!" The man bellowed, and it echoed off the stones. His tone from evilly enthusiastic to fierce and demonic was blinding quick and shocking. "Get this one tested. I cannot have... contamination. Get him cleared."  
"What happens if I'm not clean?" Tyler asked.  
"You're going to be killed. Might as well not mince words. And what a pity it would be if we had to slit your throat." Mr. Wilson chided, almost as if making a quip about the weather or something on TV. The sheer lack of humanity in his words astounded Tyler. Oh, how he wanted to kill this man! But William Wilson continued his examination. He felt up Tyler's thighs, making him shudder, and he moved like a serpent to the back, feeling the smoothness of Tyler's little bubble butt. The bound boy bit his lip in frustration. He knew anything could happen, and what events occurred in his mind were terrible. He felt the hands pull apart his ass cheeks, followed by a moan of pleasure from his examiner.  
"Oh my.... Oh my.... Oh.... what... a wonderful, beautiful ass." He licked his lips loudly, before shoving his face into it. Tyler gasped and screamed, his eyes showing undiluted horror at his unorthodox violation. He strained, strained, strained to get away, trying to move his legs but the bolts in the floor connected to the spreader bar held fast. He felt the man's long, oily tongue slide in and out of his hole, and he squirmed, forcing his sphincter to try and repel the intrusion. It was of little use, but it ended quickly, to which Tyler was thankful. He felt the man's fingers on his spine, moving up his shoulders and neck. They teased his pits, to which the boy shook and held his face firm. Finally teleporting -for Tyler could not follow this man's movements- in front of him, he examined his face, bearing his teeth like a vampire, or maybe a shark. For Tyler it was hard to tell, and the terror began to rise in him. Whatever creature this was.... he was afraid of it.  
The man-creature held his face, and opened his mouth, again attempting to shove his oily, now shit-infested tongue down the boy's throat. Tyler fought, keeping his lips locked in a tight embrace to protect himself from the demonic snake between Mr. Wilson's teeth. But even that embrace failed, and the muscular, formless beast found itself within his mouth, searching and wiggling. Tyler, now furious more than ever, bit down with all his might.  
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" The devil's master screamed and screamed, hoarse and dry as hot ash, and struggled to pry the vicegrip of Tyler's teeth off him. Both of them tasted blood, one thick and sluggish with excess salt and copper. The other, human. Tyler spat out the man, letting him fall back, his mouth dripping blood off to the sides. NOW Mr. Wilson looked like what he really was; a vampire, feeding off of mortal humans' misery and woe. Blood dribbles off the sides of his mouth, and he massaged his jaw to try and comfort his bloody tongue. Isaac was at his side, glaring knives and whips at the chained-up boy before him.  
"Oh.... oh …. YES!" Mr. Wilson screamed in triumph. "Isaac, prepare this one well!! I like him. I WANT him so badly! Break him hard, and use every trick in the book. Break him, break him BRRRREEAK HIM!" Blood flew in the excitement, mixed with his spittle. His eyes burned with unnatural brimstone, and Tyler, for the first time he was here, felt truly powerless as the man ocular-fucked him with his burning eyes.  
"What about his skin, sir? Should I keep it in tact?" The way he said it, Tyler shuddered, shrinking his head and neck down into his shoulders in a feeble attempt at defense.  
"FUCK THE FLESH!" William Wilson roared. "I only want his inner fire. Do you hear me, Isaac? I WANT THAT FIRE!! Snuff it out and give me him!! He will make a wondrous slave in my stable!"  
"Fuck you!" Tyler snapped, trying to fight back.  
"Oh, don't worry. There will be plenty of that in the near future, BOY." William Wilson laughed. The blooded spilled from his mouth as he did so. The fire burned out of his eyes, and he seemed more calm. He gave a wicked, wicked grin "I look forward to having you serve me, my slave."  
"I belong to Avery, not you!!" The fear departed when he invoked Avery's name, shouting to William Wilson defiantly and gallantly. It was as if new wind were in his sails; fuel was in his tank. The wide-eyed doe look was replaced by new determination.  
"I own your body. And after Master Isaac has done his work, I will own your mind as well. Go ahead and scream all you want. I look forward to hearing about how much you will suffer." His eyes narrowed, and he licked his lips while stroking himself down below. Tyler, to William, returned his gaze of fiendish lust, hunched over and in dim lighting, with one of celestial hatred, proud, regal and standing in the light.

After the boss had departed, both Ryan and Aaron got to work preparing the room for Master Isaac. Tyler, with a large blue ballgag shoved in his mouth, protested and struggled against the cuffs and spreader-bar. Aaron and Ryan had already set up a table with the tools of the trade on them. Ryan unfolded the toolbag, displaying a variety of instruments, most of which he had seen in action. They made him ill, for he had felt the sting of many of them for himself. He kept glancing at Tyler, trying to be friendly and sympathetic.  
Aaron, on the other hand, gave him only apathetic, blank stares. Aaron always got this way before a boy was to be tortured. It was sort of like he was shielding himself from the pain. But Ryan noticed that his demeanor wasn't changed all that much this time; it was as if he were simply so jaded that he could not feel anymore. It brought concern to the skinny slave boy's heart.  
"Do you want to submit, Number 77?" Ryan asked, with a pleading quality to his voice.  
"Fmmmm yummmm!!" Tyler moaned in rage.  
"Please don't let-"  
"Stop it, 71." Aaron commanded. "The idiot chose his fate. Stop trying to talk him into it. He'll just have to learn things for himself."  
"How... how can you be so heartless?" Ryan asked, and Aaron looked at him suddenly, with a cocked eyebrow. "You KNOW how much pain these.... weapons do!"  
"Yes. Which is why I have no pity for those who don't use their fucking heads and submit." Aaron said very, very coldly. "And what's it to you? He's not gonna stay here long; someone will buy him and he'll leave like everyone else. There is no sense in getting attached."  
"...Is that how you really feel?" Ryan asked. He pursed his lips together to keep from quivering. Tyler had stopped struggling, and listened in. He found himself feeling sorry for the slave boy before him, suddenly realizing how lonely and starved for affection he was. He didn't blame him at all; Aaron seemed to not have a soul, or a shred of ability to connect to other people.  
"Yes." was all Number 67 replied. Ryan blinked, trying to hold back tears.  
"Fuck you, then. AARON. Enjoy the fucking show." And he stormed off. Aaron didn't notice, or if he did, he didn't show it at all. Tyler suddenly felt total hatred for him as well. But maybe a shred of pity. But mostly hatred. His hatred retreated quickly when Isaac came into the room, clad in full leather gear with his riding crop in hand. Tyler gulped and summoned the image of Avery to his mind. He imagined him as a seven-winged angel, with wings of glittering steel and a massive flaming flamberge shielding him from harm. He hoped it was enough.  
Isaac strode up to him, clamped his hands on the side of his face, and pulled out the ballgag with a drooly pop. "I was going easy on you, Number 77. You skin was so soft and so smooth. But now Master Wilson wants you; he wants your spirit, boy. Your flesh won't save you any longer."  
"Do. Your. Worst." Tyler huffed. Aaron's eyes went wide. So did Isaac's, but for entirely different reasons. "I got angels at my back. Can you say the same?"  
"I like your faith in things that don't exist. I'm gonna enjoy bringing you back to the real world, where I am your master and you will submit. You WILL submit. This is your last chance to avoid a world of pain and suffering, what do you say, Number 77?"  
Tyler cleared his throat. "I am Tyler Severin Davenport. You will NEVER be my master."  
WHACK!  
"AAAHHH!" the sudden strike of the riding crop on his stomach hurt more than anything he had felt before. He barely had time to catch his breath before the crop struck him six more times. Each time, though, his mind felt Avery place his wings between each stroke. The crop moved north, striking his right nipple six times.  
"NO! AAAAAHHHHHAAAAAAAAHAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH AAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!" The crop in Isaac's hand was cruel and struck his left nipple as well, six times, and six times he screamed for mercy.  
And Aaron did nothing.  
"FUCK YOU!" Tyler roared, and Isaac smiled.  
"Wrong answer, Number 77." He reeled back and swung hard, striking Tyler on the cheekbone underneath his eye, and the boy screamed high pitched, almost in a woman's shrill, and tears geysered out, his vision swimming in a sea of agony.  
"I will not submit." Tyler repeated.  
"Oh, I think you will." He took the crop, and six times he struck Tyler's thighs. Each sent a nova of burning energy through his flesh and muscles, and Tyler screamed. The image in his mind, of Avery, wings around him, kept him going. The pain was crucifying to him, and his knees buckled, straining his arms and wrists as he could not stand up. He found it hard to breathe with his muscles crushing his lungs.  
And Aaron did nothing.  
"I haven't even gotten to the best part, 77." Isaac ran his crop along the side of his buttcheek. "It's gonna hurt forever, you know. Do you wanna submit? Do you want to submit? Do you want to submit?"  
Tyler sighed "Nunquam suade mihi vana. Sunt mala quae libas."  
Aaron narrowed his brow, while Isaac frowned in confusion. "The fuck?"  
Tyler laughed. "'Never tempt me with vain things. What you offer me is evil.'"  
"Fucking choirboy." Isaac laughed. He held out his crop, and swung at his ass.  
"IPSE VENENA BIBAS!" ("drink the poison yourself") Tyler roared at him! Defiant despite the pain!  
Isaac shook his head, and reached over, shoving the ballgag back into Tyler's open mouth. "Shut the fuck up, church boy. The sooner you learn that all that shit is lies and fairy tales, the better. This the real world, and here I am in charge. Not your 'God,' you fucking faggot." He slammed the crop down on Tyler's rump with a SMACK, and the boy screamed around the blue sphere in his mouth.  
And Aaron did nothing.  
Six times he swung at Tyler's ass, and six times Tyler screamed for mercy, muffled by the ball he was sucking on. Drool flew, as he was unable to control himself. He held onto Avery, the image of the angelic one giving him strength. Swinging side to side, Isaac cracked the crop against different sides of his back, with erratic signals of bio-electricity sending screaming warnings of pain through his body. Six times six times his back was struck, until he felt his vision swimming. Avery was transparent now, fading away. Bloody feathers of steel were falling in his mind. He could not maintain the image.  
"Aahvueeee!" Tyler screamed into the ball, glancing skyward towards the angel of his love that was fading away so quickly. "Aahvueee!! Huhpp mmmmaaaa Aahvueee!!"  
And Aaron did nothing.

Ryan fully expected punishment that night. But none never came. Instead, he sat in his room, once again forgotten by all those around him. When Aaron came inside, he had a very blank look on his face. He sat down on the cot, not acknowledging Ryan in any way. He curled up into a ball, his eyes downcast and glazed over. It must have been bad.  
Ryan came over, to comfort his companion slave. "Was... was it bad?"  
"Don't talk to me." Aaron spoke.  
"Hey, 67, I'm sorry you had to to-" He put his hand on Aaron's shoulder, who snarled and pulled away. He had hatred in his eyes.  
"DON'T TOUCH ME!!! DON'T TOUCH ME!!!" He wailed. "Go away and die already! I don't want you here! Nobody wants you here!"  
Ryan, in a mix of fury and sadness, slapped Aaron across the face. The blond boy was furious, and screamed louder than before, pouncing on Ryan and punching him in the face repeatedly, until Ryan was on the ground, his wrists up to his face trying to defend himself. A pair of orderlies threw open the door to their room and pulled Aaron off. The blond boy bit and kicked and screamed, and one of the orderlies was forced to draw a syringe. His friend eventually wrestled Aaron to the ground, and they forced the needle into his shoulder. It took several minutes, but Aaron finally fell into a deep, deep sleep. The orderlies fell off him, struggling or breath.  
"Are you hurt, 71?" The burly bearded man asked him.  
"No, I'm fine, thank you." Ryan sat up, only scratched and bruised. "I'm sorry for bothering you."  
"Damn boy acts up all the time." The orderly took Aaron and placed his unconscious body in the cot, moving the covers up above him. "If you're okay, then we're done here."  
"Thank you sir, it won't happen again."  
"I've heard that before." he said as he left. Ryan watched over Aaron's sleeping body, chest heaving. He finally left his vigil lit several candles near his cot- it was his comforting item, that Master Isaac let him have in his room with Aaron. He killed the unnatural lights and let the candle-fire warm him. The light was comforting and enabled him to meditate on things. Master Isaac understood; life in the facility could be stressful, what with all the slave boys who needed training.  
He had an idea. It would be risky, but he deemed it worthy of trying.

Tyler was left on the floor of his cell, broken, bruised and weeping tears of agony and abandonment. His cell was pitch black, and the table remained in it's corner, but the tools of the gruesome trade had been removed. His body was red with welts, both from the crop, and from the clips that had been placed across his torso, nipples, groin, ballsack, buttcheeks, ears, eyebrows, cock, webbing between his toes, and just about everywhere. Even his hair hurt, and his eyes were red and wet from crying for what seemed like an eternity.  
"Avery... I need you...." He sobbed into the silent stone floor. He had been praying for Avery to come, and take him away from this place. This horrible hell of a hovel in the unholy earth. Clenching his eyelids tightly together, he sobbed and moaned again.  
"Avery!" He cried, slamming his palm against the cement. He did this seven times, desperately shouting ("Avery! Avery! Avery!") the name of his beloved ("Avery! Avery!") with each slap ("Avery!"). Tears fell from him, their purity falling upon the filthy rocks and slowly exiling themselves towards the drain in the center. When he heard the locks tumble and the metal door begin to slide, he prayed more. He could not take any more pain.  
Soft footsteps approached him, and found him laying face-down. "Shhh." the soft voice held a finger to his lips, although it was moot in the darkness. "I'm here to help."  
"I want my Avery..." Tyler sobbed.  
"I.... I'm sorry." Ryan did not know what to say to that. "Let me help you, at least."  
"No..." Tyler choked.  
"Please." Ryan replied. "I have a present for you. Two, actually."  
"I.... I... I don't want..."  
"Please." Ryan said, gently putting his blanket around Tyler's shoulders. It felt amazingly soft; it was the softest thing he had felt in a long time. Wrapping it around him, Ryan rolled Tyler up in it, then sat him gently against the wall opposite of the table of torture. He kneeled down, but Tyler could only really make out his outline. He held something in his hand, which he placed on the floor next to him. He fidgeted with something else, and then a spark, followed by a tiny flame, came to life. Ryan's glasses reflected the fire, and his smile was that of warmth, empathy and humanity. He brought the match down to a tiny blue candle. It was a tiny, tiny thing, but the little flame was a sign of warmth and life. The little candle pushed back the consuming gloom of the place. Tyler had never seen something so little, so meek and insignificant, and yet it meant so much to him. It was a symbol of kindness, of humanity in a shithole within the earth's bones. And illuminated by the flames was the lighter, a skinny, nerdy thing with big glasses, a comforting glint in his eyes, and a heart the size of the Sun.  
"They keep me warm at night. I want you to be warm, too." Ryan blushed and looked away from him.  
"Why... why are..."  
"Ssshh. I... I've seen how much you love the guy on the outside of this place. Don't give up. Don't submit. Not ever."  
Tyler looked confused, and spoke "but you said..."  
"Don't give up. DON'T. I did, and I ended up miserable. I was miserable before, and I will probably be miserable forever. I never knew love like you do; what you have... is special. I don't know how I know this, but I DO. Don't submit. Ever. If you do, then you're lost like me." Ryan had to look away, so he glanced into the shadows away from the little candle. "I have to go. If I do not see you again, know that, I'm with you spiritually. If I could get you out of here and back to the man you're so in love with, trust me I would."  
Tyler smiled at him, his eyes red and swollen but warmed. "You are a very, very sweet man, Ryan. I don't think I can ever express how thankful I am for your comfort."  
"Just keep fighting. That's all I ask." Ryan, reaching over, kissed the boy on the lips. He then slipped out, into the hallway, where he listened and watched over Ryan until he fell asleep. Ryan was always told there were three types of men in the world; Destroyers, Creators, and Protectors. He likened himself to a Protector, and would always make sure he was the last to sleep.  
Tyler stared down at the little candle. It was blue as the night sky at late sunset, and the little flame on the little wick did a little dance to celebrate in it's own little way. The candles were very similar to ones Tyler had encountered before, and the memories stirred to life. It was his second date... when he and Avery went to the karaoke bar.... Avery hated karaoke. But Tyler was talented and wanted to serenade him something. The memories stirred to life, and he felt the pain dull, dying from the pleasantness of his optimistic times long remembered and not forgotten. The angel of Avery returned to comfort him; he felt it in his soul. Avery must have been thinking of him, he knew it!  
He thought of the song he had sung; it held the crowd stunned, for one of Tyler's main talents was singing. His classmates wanted him to try out for "American Idol," but he knew he wasn't THAT good. It was just a hobby, not a passion. But the lyrics came back as he sang along with the machine. "Teenage Dream" was a cheesy song he'd chosen out of being love-drunk for his man.  
"You think I'm pretty, without any makeup on." He intoned voice flowing over the stones in a wave, "you think I'm funny, when I tell the punchline wrong." The candle seemed brighter, and the dark seemed to retreat, and his pain seemed almost a distant memory of bad times long gone.  
"I know you get me, so I let my walls come down.... doooww-ooown!" He stood up, feeling energy he had not felt before, and began to shake the weariness and pain out of his limbs. "Before you met me, I was a wreck, but things were kinda heavy, you brought me to life, now every February, you'll be my Valentine. Vaaalllentine!"  
He imagined himself at a dance club, with the song in his heart playing. Avery was dancing, shirtless and unashamed, grinding into him as they both sang along. "Lets go all, the way to-night; no regrets, just love. We can DANCE! Until we die, you and I, well be young for-ev-aaahh!"  
He spun and kicked and danced, with Ryan's blanket being like a shawl or a cape. The little candle danced alongside him, the little flame happy as it's little flame heart could be. "You! Make! Me! Feel like I'm livin' a- Teen! Age! Dream! The way you turn me on."  
He was dancing on the glittering floor as the thrum, thrum thrum of the beat teased to life his senses and got his body shaking. Avery and him, surrounded by sexy men who were just here to dance. No one had any ill intentions. It was the individual, the lover, the beat, the rhythm, and the desire to forget everything and lose oneself in the nightly gyrations of lust and joy. "I! Can't! Sleep! Let's run away and don't ever look back, don't ever look back!"  
"My! Heart! Stops! When you look at me. Just! One! Touch! So baby I believe. This! Is! Real! So take a chance and don't ever look back, don't ever look back!"  
He skipped and did ballet like jumps and kicks around his dungeon cell. He was cold at the limbs but warm at the core. Dropping the blanket over his shoulders like a poncho or massive scarf, he swiveled his hips and moves his shoulders and elbows in a smooth flow. "We drove to Cali, and we got drunk at the beach; got a motel, and built a floor out of sheets. I finally found you, my missing puzzle piece... I'm complete!"  
"Let's go all... the way tonight, no regrets, just love. We can DANCE! Unil we die, you and I, will be young for-ev-ahhh! You! Make! Me! Feel like I'm livin' a, Teen! Age! Dream! The way you turn me on. My! Heart! Stops! When you look at me. Just! One! Touch! So baby I believe. This! Is! Real! So take a chance and don't ever look back, don't ever look back!"  
He dropped the blanket, dancing totally free and totally in the nude, completely at ease with chaos, his imagination purely out of the grim realm he dwelt within. And best of all, Avery was with him, his embrace warm and loving and safe.....  
Outside, listening to it all, Ryan fell to the floor, his back to the wall, ears listening to someone, who in such pain and anguish, still held onto love and could sing something so beautiful. It troubled him; the comforting life he thought he could live here in the facility seemed like such a lie! A goddamned, motherfucking lie! There was no love in this place, and that was what he needed most. He had been such a fool to let himself be deceived!  
Tyler waved his arms around, erratic and swirling like he was underwater. It was graceful, swan-like, and beautiful, considering how immobile and hurt he was hours earlier. He thought of his bed, big and soft and snuggly, like his dorky loveably retarded (sometimes) lover. He found himself hugging his torso hard, imagining so hard that it was Avery it felt not like his own arms, but those of another. He felt his warm breath on his neck, smelling minty from his mouthwash and sandalwood-like from his cologne. He inhaled deeply as he finished his song.  
"I'mma get your heart racing, in my skin tight jeans, be your teenage dream tonight. Let you put your hands on me, in my skin tight jeans, be your teenage dream tonight." He thought of the taste of Avery's heavenly lips, his tongue engaged with Tyler's own as they embraced within their body's embrace. He thought of Avery's blue eyes, letting him know that everything would be alright, and that he would never let anything horrible happen to him. Ever.  
"Yyyyyyyyooooooooooouuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu!" His crescendo echoed throughout the chamber that was his prison. "You! Make! Me! Feel like I'm livin' a- Teen! Age! Dream! The way you turn me on. I! Can't! Sleep! Let's run away and don't ever look back, don't ever look back!"  
He finally tired, exhausted and unable to keep his imagination going. He fell to the stones, and pulled the blanket tight around himself. The little candle he pulled closer to him. It was like his little buddy with it's little flame still doing its little dance. As reality came back to him, he began to sob again once more, thoughts of his little paradise lost.  
He sobbed himself to sleep, with just the little candle with it's little flame to hear his cries.


	6. The Horrifying Truth

"...Man did not evolve naturally, as modern science teaches, either accidentally or as part of a divine plan. He is a freak of his own making. All of his actions - not only his cruelty to his own kind and his ruthless exploitation of the animal world, but even his great intellectual and artistic achievements - are the actions of a monster."  
-Daniel Farson and Angus Hall

 

"GOD FUCKING DAMMIT!!!"  
The Name of the Beast was Master Isaac that morning, as he discovered a smiling, warm-blooded little creature in his cell that was rejuvenated from last night's vicious beating. Wrapped in a soft blanket with a small candle for warmth, the Master was flush with fury, waking the sleeping little prince in violence and grabbing him by his ankle, swinging him across the stones and sending him colliding with the metal table. Tyler screamed in pain as his sore back hit the table leg.  
He whipped out a viciously sharp knife, and proceeded to stab the blanket, tearing into it with viciousness not seen before by either of his two slaves watching. Aaron was blank and soulless as usual, while Ryan watched with fury in his own heart. Roaring and growling like some beast from the darkened depths of the Pit, Master Isaac tore apart the blanket until it was just stuffing and shreds of cloth. His boot nudged the little candle, it's little flame still dancing despite the colossal danger. Gripping it, he screamed in wrath when the hot glass from the flame burned his hand, but he ignored the pain as he threw the little candle with all his might against the far wall. The little flame ceased it's last dance as it shattered with a thunderclap against the wall, bursting into tiny shards of shiny dust and wet wax. Dripping like the blue blood from the wound of some alien creature, the wax slowly cried it's way down to the cold stone floor.  
Master Isaac turned his attention to Tyler once again, grabbing the boy by his hair and pulling him to his feet. "WHOGAVETHESETHINGSTOYOUBOYANSWERNOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" The echoes of doom could be heard throughout most of the hallway and into the other cells. Tyler instead just cried, frozen in fear. Isaac delivered a Spartan-like swift kick to Tyler's ribs, sending him flying backwards and landing on the drain near the center of the room.  
The burning eyes of the Beast fell upon his slaves. "NUMBER 71!!!" He was panting hard, but the flames were burning out quickly.  
Ryan stepped forward. "Yes sir!"  
"Did you give these things to Number 77?" He asked. "And do not lie, I know you love candles. The evidence is stacked against you."  
"I did give them to Ty- er, 77 sir."  
Master Isaac gave Ryan a inquisitive look. "Why? Why would you do that?"  
"I tried to convince him to submit, sir." It was a lie. Ryan had lied. His heart began to race. What was happening to him, his mind wondered.... he was lying to his master. And it felt good. "I wanted to show him what he could have!"  
"You are rewarding bad behavior, Number 71. You know that, right?"  
"...No, sir." Ryan looked down at the ground submissively.  
"Regardless, we must administer a punishment. Since you care so much for this boy, go to your room, and bring to this cell all the candles you possess."  
"...A-all of them?"  
Master Isaac "That's 'All of them, SIR'!"  
"All of them, sir? Sorry sir."  
"You are forgetting your manners, Number 71. I think Number 77 is a bad influence on you. Therefore, you get to punish him today. BRING THE GODDAMN CANDLES!"  
"Y-y-yesssir." Ryan trembled as he went back to his room.  
Aaron did nothing, not even acknowledge the conversation around him. Master Isaac glared at him. "Go help him!"  
"Yes. Sir." He said, blankly leaving.  
Tyler smirked. "Even your slaves hate you."  
"Did I say you could talk, assfuck?!"  
"Sorry, even your slaves hate you, SIR." The beating he received was impressive, by the Devil's standards of brutality. The last thing Tyler remembered were the fiery eyes of the Devil as he beat him into the darkness of bloody sleep.

***

Carter awoke, slipping out of the bed in his tighty whities, swiftly walking to the bathroom, leaving his goddess alone and cold. She stirred, feeling his absence but still asleep. After taking an awkward, morning-wood-inhibited tinkle involving some bent over man-acrobatics, Carter glanced in the mirror, checked out his face for zits, and grabbed his toothbrush, going to work on his choppers. Spitting and finishing his work, he slapped his brush back and went back to bed, snuggling close to his woman.  
"You're not fooling anyone." She grinned. Diana was well aware of those little things he did. It was why she liked him. She held him close. Carter grinned as her arm snaked around him, and he returned the favor. Her hair, despite the steamy night they had last night, still smelled wondrous and vibrant with pleasant scents of rulership, passion and flowers.  
"Last night was... amazing." He commented, his face buried in the pillow next to her's.  
"You say that every time."  
"I mean, it, darlin'." He chuckled. She inhaled him, his musk was heavenly, reminding her of the night before. He'd been trussed down tight, and moaning loudly, sweating bullets as they thrust into each other in a dance of lusty delight.  
She traced his scar on his bicep. It was a small number 65, and he pulled away. "Hey, don't do that." She complained.  
"Stop." He ordered.  
"Sorry." She kissed his stubble-covered chin. "You didn't have nightmares last night."  
"I was too tired." He wiggled his wrist remembering the knots she'd tied him in.  
She sat up, her graceful feline back slightly covered by her falling hair. It was slightly curly and light brown. Her eyes were a dark blue color, piercing and determined. Her eyes had a special power, one that could destroy any man's mental armor in an instant. If one tried to project toughness, she could see past it. If one lied about one's inner demons, she was going to see past it. There was no hiding from her.  
Carter chuckled at her gaze, rolling onto his back and staring at the ceiling. He gasped as she lunged on top of him, like a jungle cat, and held his arms down above his head. Pinning them with one, she moved her hand down, tickling his right armpit with her fingernail. He struggled, laughed and gasped. She felt his bulge in his briefs press against her panties. He was stronger than she was, but he submitted to her easily, for her mind was sharper and more controlling and he loved it when she was so into him. He could defend himself, but he felt safe with her. He needed no walls up around her.  
Diana licked her bright pink lips. "I want you. Now."  
"You gotta tie me down first." He grinned.  
"Hardly a challenge."

She was combing her hair, getting all the tangles out, while Carter lay on the bed. He was immobile, save for his hips bucking from the lovely sensation around his cock. She had stuffed her panties in his mouth, tying them securely in there with a length of rope. His eyes were closed as he wiggled and struggled. His arms bound overhead tightly with his legs spread apart, his cock (which was... a fine skyscraper if there ever was one) was erect and shooting skyward in ecstasy as the vibrating cock ring cast it's magic.  
She'd purposely taken a long shower just to torture him, and saw that his penis was very red and throbbing. He thrust into the cold morning air, fruitlessly trying to get some sort of release. She brushed her teeth, giggling as he was so pissed off at his blue balls. Carter glanced in her direction, sucking in a bit of drool and giving her the saddest man-eyes in the world.  
She gave in to his sad sad eyes and crawled back into bed. She undid her robe, and gave him a glance. Men, being visual creatures, were so easily manipulated.... She ran her hand across her chest, massaging her breasts and moaning. Carter threw his head back in frustration. She placed her graceful fingers around his shaft, with her thumb underneath the underside of his tip. She then did a fiendish motion with her thumb, swirling it in circles while digging her nail into the skin. Thunder flew through Carter's system and he shuddered. He moaned and moaned and moaned, his breath going sharp and his eyes clamping shut. She aimed him high, and the phallus fired like a gun, shooting white scattershot pellets onto his torso. Carter almost swallowed her panties in the process, falling back and breathing hard, his muscular chest heaving up and down. She came up, and stroked his hair. She finessed her drawers out of his mouth, but the rope remained.  
"Ann Aw Eeehzza ooo." He giggled.  
She sighed and undid the rope. "Yes?"  
"Mistress, can I pleasure you now?"  
"We're out of time, you silly bitch. Check the Trojan supply next time, okay?"  
"Yes, Mistress." Carter shrugged shoulders. "I'm sorry, Mistress."  
"I forgive you, you snuggly retard. We got work to do." She laughed as she undid his wrists.

***

Ryan had been forced into the chair, his wrists locked into a leather restraining device behind his back, attached to a collar that wound around his neck, and with a leather strap winding around his chest as well. A big red ballgag had been forced into his mouth, strapped around his face tightly. And this was just the tip of the iceberg. His cock was erect, with various tools of torment attached; electrical pads encircled it, and a vibrating butt plug shoved in his rectum; He muffle-moan-screamed as Master Isaac took heavy-duty clips and clamped them on his nipples, and they bit so hard Ryan felt as if he was going to bleed. It was the first time since his period of torture that he felt pain. So much pain...  
Aaron sat on the bed opposite of the chair that Ryan sat within. It was going to be awkward. Normally, when they were invited to the Master's chambers, they were to play with each other, or be bound and directed as the Master willed. But this time, Ryan would not be playing; it was his punishment to suffer in frustration. He was not allowed to cum, either during or after the play was over. This was going to suck, for it was the one time he got to freely partake in Aaron's body; the twenty-one year-old was athletic as hell, yet still had a tiny layer of fat on him to make him soft and snuggly.  
Isaac sat down next to Number 67, rubbing his hair affectionately. "You two have always been my favorite slaves. 71, I am so shocked at your sudden love of 77. He is disobedient and disrespectful. Respect must be EARNED through dominance, not traded with gifts. Do you understand?"  
Ryan nodded, his eyes cast down to the floor.  
"Good. You will suffer as we enjoy ourselves. Won't we enjoy ourselves, 67?"  
"Yes." Aaron had that blank look in his eyes, as if he were somewhere else. Ryan found it strange, as the Master was usually very intimate with both of them. He never really hurt them, just bound them when he desired and played with their bodies. But this was the same look.... he got when a boy was being tortured.  
Master Isaac pulled his head back, exposing his neck. He bit down, nuzzling it as the blond boy closed his eyes and moaned. Isaac pushed him down on the bed, face first and pulled his hands behind his back. Cuffing them with stainless steel cuffs, Aaron lay there, eyes shiny as glass and just as lightless. His covered ass hung in the air, until the Master pulled his jammers down, sliding them off his legs like a hungry goblin with a treasure. He spread out Aaron's asscheeks, admiring the hole of glory in his backside. He immediately rolled the boy over, kissing and caressing his chest with his lips and tongue.  
Ryan screamed, the shock exploding from his anus and cock and scrotum and into his spine, And every move he squirmed and thrashed made the clips wiggle and bite into his flesh further. He couldn't resist a bit of drool.  
Isaac laughed evilly and went back to pleasuring the blond. He bit and licked his nipple, and Aaron moaned. Isaac held down his slave's shoulder as he bit and sucked on his neck. His other hand moved to the cock, stroking it and making Aaron's hips buck skyward. He kissed Aaron's lips, shoving his diabolic tongue into the boy, caressing his teeth and fighting a similar advance from his own. Isaac left his boy's cock alone and stroked and kneaded his nipple, getting the boy to gasp and moan. Ryan was so envious at the time it was not even funny. He had little time to contemplate the sin of covetousness when the shockings hit him again, sending sharp pains like a knife through his back entrance.  
Isaac grabbed his slave by the hair, forcing his... monstrous and veiny cock into the blond's mouth. Aaron inhaled, and choked on it as he bobbed his head back and forth. Ryan noted that he was blank in the eyes. Usually when they played, it was passionate and furious. Master Isaac would have had to restrain Aaron to keep his hands off Ryan. But here he was totally, completely submissive. Totally unlike himself.  
Aaron choked on the cock but kept sucking and sucking, his lips caressing the shaft as if his life depended on it. Isaac was so intensely hard he pulled out, and Aaron breathed deep. He grabbed the blond's cock, also hard- and jacked while licking the tip in circles. His index and middle finger from his other hand went inside Aaron, stroking the walls near his prostate and driving the boy insane with pleasure.  
A shock his Ryan once again, making him moan. Isaac climbed over his slave, sticking out his armpit and forcing his slave to lick it, and Aaron kept his eyes closed the entire time, licking the pit and burying his face in it. He guided his face onto his chest, where the worship continued. Aaron bit and licked Isaac's nipple, teasing it to erect life. He bit playfully into his Master's beard before moving onto his ear.  
"Enough!" Isaac threw Aaron back, rolling him over, and slapped his rump hard. Aaron gasped, and clenched his eyes. His teeth were bared. The spankings repeated, and Ryan felt the shockings continue as well, and the vibration increased... his evil master must have touched the button while he wasn't looking. It was intense back there! He shuddered and shivered and skittered in his chair, trying in vain to find comfort to stabilized his mind and focus, but the forces were ….. overwhelmingly jovial to the senses.  
Slap slap slap Isaac whacked a away at the cheeks of Number 67. Aaron gasped and groaned, and his eyes watered. He looked at Ryan constantly, and Ryan felt.... haunted by his ecstatic gaze. Finally spitting his saliva onto his cock, Isaac oiled himself, and parted the red cheeks before him, forcing himself into the gaping hole where Aaron's pleasure center was. Aaron shrieked, and buried his face in the blankets, almost as if trying to hide his shouts. Isaac thrust into him, back and forth quickly, He continued to slap Aaron's thighs and cheeks as he did so, and Aaron arched and waved his spine in various directions as his nerves lit on bio-fire with intense endorphinic pleasure.  
Ryan was shocked two more times before the Master finally blew his load in Number 67. It was a final deep thrust followed by a slow withdrawal from Aaron. He wiped the white mess off himself, and rubbed it on Aaron's back and asscheeks. Withdrawing without a word, he went to his private bathroom to clean himself off. Aaron had a totally blank look on his face, as if he had totally withdrawn from Earth. Ryan realized that he was in a fugue state of mind, not in tune with his surroundings at all, rather he seemed to have retreated into the corridors of his own mind, and to the bound boy in the chair, it was a sight most disturbing.

***

"I think Shane likes you." KJ smiled before biting down into his sandwich. They were outside in the park at a dry picnic table.  
Avery looked confused. "Who?"  
Despite a mouthful of food, KJ still managed to speak articulately. "The cute boy back at the shop!"  
"I think he was more interested in YOU, my friend."  
"See, this is why I'm the perfect wingman." KJ grinned. He looked at Avery sideways, for the older man was not making eye contact. "You look troubled."  
"It's just... the night before. It seems surreal."  
"Master was very pleased with you." KJ said. "He is now devoting all his resources to help you out, know this."  
"Wait, he wasn't before?"  
KJ held out his finger while he chewed his sandwich. Swallowing, then speaking "No, he had to make sure you were worthy."  
"Okay, then explain a few things to me." There was a pissed tone to Avery's voice. He crossed his arms on the table, his focus on KJ entirely.  
"I will try, within reason." KJ leaned back with his eyes honest, but still guarded. "I am forbidden to spill all of my Master's secrets."  
"Okay." Avery agreed. "SO what was the deal with you being chained up?"  
"It was part of the test, and a good way to distract her. Did you notice how engaged she was in our bound forms? I mean, I was blindfolded, but it was as Master foretold; she was so distracted by her own lust that she failed to notice you taking away her gun."  
"...holy shit."  
"Yes, Master thinks these things through. He's thorough to the point it gives me chills." KJ shrugged. "And I've known him for a while."  
"So why me, and why not just have us all gang up on her?" Avery asked.  
"Oh Avery Jones, you have so much to learn about Master." KJ chuckled. "He wanted to see if you could kill again." Avery did not respond to that. He instead looked away, trying not to remember the past. "He needed to have you alone with Venus, so that the deed could be done properly. You see, Avery Jones, he has chosen you to be his instrument of vengeance."  
Avery looked at him with the weirdest, most awkward look imaginable. "What... so this is like some fucked up fairy tale, and I'm the hero?"  
"That's a good way to put it." KJ grinned and giggled. "That makes me your trusty sidekick."  
"This is …. insane!" Avery exclaimed. KJ smiled, crunching his sandwich.

The car was a grey-green color, and they pulled up to the park. The sky was overcast, but it was warm and sunny. Diana parked it, and she and her boy-toy got out. Carter stretched, and glanced around. He wore a white tanktop, blue sweatshirt and khaki pants, while Diana wore jeans and a white T-shirt with a black coat. She checked her glasses and glanced around.  
"So what do we know about this guy?" Carter asked.  
"He killed Venus the Cunt." She replied. "That's good enough for me."  
"Another... gay guy?" He stopped himself from saying "fag."  
"Yes, Carty." She put her hands on her hips. "You can trust him. He just wants his boyfriend back; the Boss says he's very focused on that."  
Carter sighed. Ever since his time in the facility... he had never been comfortable around the gays. As much as he tried, and Diana attempted to comfort him, he felt a pit in his stomach when he was around them. Although he had gotten used to KJ and trusted him, this new guy brought back a whole set of bad memories and feelings. His jaw ached at these memories, and he felt sickened, like puking once more.  
Diana held his arm. She pulled him close and hugged him tight. "You have Bad Memory Face on. It's gonna be okay, I promise. Avery won't hurt you."  
"I... okay." Carter hugged her back. He knew it was useless to fight her perception. He spotted two men at a picnic table off in the distance. "I see them, over there."  
"Alright. Let's go say hi." She said, taking his arm in hers and they waltzed down the grassy way.

KJ saw them and waved. There were heartfelt hellos around, and introductions were made.  
"Avery Jones, this is Carter van Garret, and the lovely yet deadly Diana Milton."  
"I've heard about you, Avery Jones." Diana smiled. "Excellent work killing the Cunt."  
Avery eyes his eyebrows. "I see you knew about her."  
"Oh yes indeed, but the Boss wouldn't let me kill her."  
"You mean Ghost, right?"  
"Ghost?" Carter looked confused.  
KJ chuckled. "Mr. Jones calls Master 'Ghost'. It's quite fitting, actually."  
Diana sat down and laughed herself. "I like it too. Which one is mine?"  
"The turkey bacon. The little sandwich is Carter's." He looked at the young blond boy. "I figured you'd be nervous." Carter half-smiled at KJ.  
"Nervous?" Avery looked confused.  
"No offense but new people make me nervous, sir." Carter replied. "Although... Ghost likes you, so I … I trust you."  
As he was seated next to him, Avery unbuttoned his shirt, showing off his numerical scar on his breast. Carter looked at it, horrified, to which Avery replied. "I heard you were at the facility for a while. Whatever happened to you back there, I want you to know that I feel for you, completely. It was not your fault, whatever they did to you. And if I can help you get revenge, I sure as hell will. Promise."  
Carter, amazed by the man's honesty and up-front demeanor, pulled down his sweatshirt, showing off his numerical scar as well on his bicep. "I guess this makes us brothers, doesn't it?"  
"In a sense." Avery nodded. "My boyfriend is Number 77. I want him back." Carter nodded, and an air of understanding could be felt at the table. Tension ceased as the two scarred ones acknowledged one another in alliance. Diana smiled.  
"So tell me, Miss Diana." Avery said, looking at her. "What's your bone to pick with the facility?"  
Diana pushed her glasses up on her nose. Her expression was neutral, but barely contained her rage. "What I'm going to say to you is not easy for me to say." She spoke.  
"I am listening, Diana." Avery responded.  
"The man who hurt you and Carter and your Tyler.... He is my father." Diana said.  
Avery felt his heart sink, his stomach clench, and his throat go dry. "You.... are his DAUGHTER?" Somehow the thought of Isaac reproducing sounded so alien and blasphemous.  
"Yes, Mr. Jones. And you know, he is a monster. You don't know the damage he's done to my family."  
"I have an idea." Avery said grimly.  
"We're similar people, Avery." Diana rested her head on her hands, elbows on the table. "Our parents are fucked up."  
"Yes." Avery acknowledged. "Did your parents sell you as well?"  
Both Carter and KJ choked on their food, looking at Avery with looks of pity mixed with horror and disgust. Diana took off her glasses and wiped her eyes. "No." She choked. "It's worse. I escaped by moving out and away from here, living with my uncle in Spokane for a while."  
Avery put his hand on her's. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to-"  
"NO, I do. Mr. Jones. You have to know." She said. "My father has been working for William Wilson for years, as you know. My father sold my little brother to him... his own son. He took him to the facility and, to the best of my knowledge, is still training him to be William Wilson's slave."  
Carter and KJ looked at their food with ruined optimism. Avery felt all the blood go cold in his face. "I am so sorry."  
She could barely contain her tears, but amazingly kept her voice clear and precise. "So know this, Avery Jones. I too, am looking to rescue someone I love dearly from the facility. My brother's name is Aaron, and his number is 67."


	7. Program Centipede

"There are a thousand hacking at the branches of evil to one who is striking at the root."  
-Henry Thoreau

 

The voice of Ghost on the speaker phone was kind of reassuring. It was sunset, on the same day that the four of them had met. Ghost had provided them with a black SUV for this mission. The inside was used, and the paint looked slightly worn, but it still ran.  
"Ah! There's the disk." Diana said, flushing it out of the glove compartment and placing it in her lap. She wore a black dress and extended past her knees, but he backside was exposed and sexy-like. She had a black shawl draped over her shoulders, along with a wonderful pair of stilettos. Avery, driving the car, wore a fancy suit with a light blue bowtie. In the back, the two pups were clad in jackets covering themselves up, for their outfits were less than dignified; leather harnesses adorned their chests, along with tight-fitting leather short shorts for Carter and a codpiece-thong hybrid for KJ. Adorning their feet were big black leather boots. Around their wrists were cuffs and around their necks were dog collars. KJ had a blue dog bone with his name "Kurt" on it. Carter's was a silver heart with "Rhys" engraved on it. They were to go by these names when they were in the house with the guests.  
"Yes. Very good." Ghost said. "This disk is essential to our assault on the facility."  
For they were headed to a puppy party up at an estate on the northeastern shore of Lake Washington, to the east of Seattle. Ghost had given them a special program on the CD Diana held, on that would allow him to access the mainframe of William Wilson's security network. This upload would not just allow him to see things in the facility they were going to infiltrate or assault (they hadn't figured that out yet), but give access to his agents across the whole of the Pacific Northwest.  
"What you are doing is vital. Not just for your own loved ones, but for the rest of the slaves and liberators across the states and provinces. I have other cells just like you doing my dirty work, haha."  
"That's reassuring." Avery quipped.  
"Yes, and having complete access to Wilson's data network will make my job a lot easier and save countless lives. He was clever, hiding it well, and disguising the signals. But I know William, far too well. He prefers to keep things close by so he can monitor them."  
"Wait, is he gonna be at the party?" Diana asked.  
"No." Ghost replied. "He is currently north of Vancouver surveying a fresh catch." The malice could be felt in his voice, despite the electronic disguise.  
"Sick fuck." Carter replied from the back.  
"Diana, you will need to infiltrate the communications center. Once you've uploaded the data, it will blend seamlessly into the program. I designed it with the aid of some of my more computer-savvy slaves. The file on there is called 'Centipede'."  
"What does it do, exactly?"  
"It is not a virus or a worm, so it will not show up on malware scans. Unless they know specifically what they are looking for, even Wilson's most advanced tech geeks will never find it. Also, it does nothing harmful to the computer system- it simply puts me in control of things. I can monitor them with perfect stealth and disable their electronics and communications. It will make your rescue operation far, far easier."  
"And the operators, what are they doing?"  
"The operators for the communications and security network are just a relay team. William didn't bother with security within the com center, as his network has been hidden well within his vacation home, and no one has breached it since it was built. Ever. You can dispatch them quickly with a few bullets in the skull."  
"Uck." Diana wrinkled her nose at the thought. "Do they work for Wilson willingly?"  
"Oh yes, they know what he does."  
"Then they die tonight." Diana fumed. Avery glanced at her, and she looked like she was truthful on this statement.  
"You know a lot about William Wilson, Ghost." Avery spoke. "How did you find this place and how do you know where this place is located?"  
"Simple, Avery Jones. I designed and built the original station over on Mercer Island." Ghost spoke. "William moved it north to his vacation house; he has his own security detail there, but they only monitor the fences and once you're in, they don't ask questions."  
"Um, Master, then how are we gonna get in?" KJ noted.  
"Ah, yes, thank you for reminding me, KJ. The pass phrase is a simple poem." Ghost spoke the words, and the grimness of them sent chills down everyone's spines.

"Thomas Moth, your children bleed.  
Your wife was stabbed by Henry Creed.  
All your silver, all your gold-  
Cannot keep their bones from growing cold."

"This just keeps getting... fuck!" Avery shivered. The lights were growing darker and darker as they left the city center, heading out more into suburbia. The twilight sky was clouded, with a small sliver of sun still providing illumination. It was going to be dark and possibly rainy- no surprise in dew-shrouded Seattle.  
The car rolled up to the front gate, after passing by several other houses. The lake house where the party was held sat a distance from the shore like a tired old giant, slouching with the slope down to the water. A lonely pier jutted out like an erect phallus from the tranquil shore. It was a rocky beach with small lapping waves, not like the sandy shores themselves.  
The guard glanced at them, looking into the SUV and trying to see the drivers. "Good evening sir. And ma'am. How can I help you?"  
"We're here for the party tonight, good sir!" Diana chimed in before Avery could say anything.  
"Alright, do you have an invitation?"  
"Thomas Moth, your children bleed. Your wife was stabbed by Henry Creed. All your silver, all your gold, cannot keep their bones from growing cold." Avery added with a smile. He could not believe he had said those weird-ass words.  
"Ah, welcome sir! Parking is in front right up there. Enjoy yourselves." The guard tipped his hat and let them waltz right in. When they were out of earshot, Avery shook his head.  
"That was just TOO easy." He said.  
"Remember," Ghost chimed in on the speaker. "William Wilson does not suspect anyone is attempting to destroy him. Our secrecy is our greatest weapon, and greatest defense."  
"This whole shindig feels so James Bond." Carter noted.  
"Hahahahaaa James Bondage." KJ chuckled.  
"Park there." Diana pointed. Avery spun the car sharply into the spot she designated. She turned around to the guys in the back seat. "Okay, moment of truth here." She turned to Carter. "Look, darling, there are going to be a lot of guys in there. Who probably want to do things to you I can barely imagine."  
"I know." Carter gulped. "I know, Di. I'm gonna trust you and Avery here."  
"Okay, good." Diana sighed. "I'm sorry to put you in this situation, but it was all I could come up with, and Ghost recommended it."  
"I know." Carter said again, but more agitated.  
"Just follow my lead." KJ chimed in. "I'll be 'alpha dog' here. If I do something to you, just go with it."  
"Like what...?"  
"Dude it can be anything. But I swear to you I'm clean and I'm not gonna hurt you."  
"How's this gonna work, what if I can't get hard or something?" He felt awkward asking this question suddenly.  
KJ smiled. "Oh don't worry. A mouth is a mouth. Your body can't tell the difference."  
"Just trust KJ, darling." Diana said, her tone soft and comforting. "Tell you what, you help me out here and put on a show for the horny motherfuckers inside, and you name the fantasy later. Whatever you like."  
"WHATEVER?" His eyes lit up.  
"Yes I mean it." Diana replied, eyes narrowed.  
"We should gag him. He can be the bad dog." KJ suggested.  
"What, no!" Carter protested, recoiling from the black-haired boy.  
Avery looked in the rearview mirror at him. "That's a good idea. That way no guy tries to stick his cock in your mouth." Suddenly Carter went silent and stared at him, and Diana let loose a barely audible gasped.  
"Avery, a word with you." She ordered, getting out of the car. She stumbled on the gravel, but Avery followed. KJ and Carter remained in the back, getting a head harness gag in place on him. She stopped and turned to him. "You know what happened back in the facility, right?"  
Avery glanced back in the car. "With Carter? They probably tortured him good."  
"Well yes, but they made him wear a forceps gag for a solid week." Avery's eyes went wide. "And every man in the facility would come by and violate him whenever they felt like it, and he had to 'take a drink' before they would give him food or water."  
"Oh my god, I had no idea, Diana." Avery put his hand to his mouth and rubbed his face.  
"He's been doing pretty well, but he's scared shitless of going back and suffering like that again. He's straight. You know how defensive straight guys are about their sexuality."  
"And his being violated like that. I can kind of imagine, but I'm gay. It doesn't seem so bad to me." Avery swallowed his words almost immediately. "Still, I'll take care of him in there, you just get the data uploaded and we'll get out of here as fast as possible."  
"Good. And if something happens, I will kill you, Avery. And I don't mean kill you, kill you. I mean, I will stop your goddamned heart."  
"Duly noted." Avery sighed. "So what's the deal with this party? William Wilson throws them but doesn't show up?"  
"He lets his investors use it for 'Sodom Parties' where slaves are shown off and do tricks and stuff. It's a sickening affair." Diana spoke. The boys came out of the car in their full leather gear, and both she and Avery grinned before taking them by their leashes.

***

Inside the house was a grand affair with an excellent view of the lake. Large glass windows allowed for little privacy from those with telescopes across the water. Yet the place was grandiose, seemingly bigger on the inside than it was on the out. Furniture of yellow-brown clay coloration adorned the living room, with couches and loungers sitting alongside recliners in front of a massive glass coffee table with a floral design worked into the glass. Portraits of renaissance-era nude men adorned just about every wall, and the carpet was one of dark green coloration compared to the off-white walls.  
"Very... earthy." Avery noted, leading KJ by his leash.  
"Yes. Tacky as fuck, too." Diana replied very quietly. She had Carter behind her with a bit gag in his mouth. When she glanced back at him, he smiled, for he did enjoy being in her power so much. He was unable to fully enjoy himself, as the party guests greeted them and eyed their slaves with definite predatory glances. They were sipping wine while discussing the merits of a particular slave boy in the center, who wore a hood on his head, and a plug gag in his mouth, and was tied up. He wore just a white jockstrap with a massive bulge within it, and the master who was demonstrating how agonizing it was chuckled and stroked it, causing his slave to moan heartily.  
"Ah, welcome friends! I do not believe we have met." The man spoke in a soft voice of quiet sadism.

***

Mr. Cyrus Blair was standing on the lower deck of the house overlooking the lake. A wine glass in his fingers with a dry batch of Riesling wine swirled in his boredom. He always enjoyed the solitude of this place, coming here often. He was on good terms with William Wilson and guards recognized his face almost instantly.  
He felt the weight of years upon him, waiting to retire but finding no purpose other than work to just keep going. He glanced back at the party, and immediately noticed two very distinct guests. One was a middle-aged gentlemen with a blue bowtie, along with a woman- a rare species at these kinds of parties, and both of them had some pretty attractive slave boys in tow.  
Mr. Blair took a sip of his wine, the bitterness attacking his tongue before the sweetness kicked in as he swallowed. He could not help but find the man in the blue bowtie.... strangely familiar. As if he had met him before but could not place his face to any name he knew....

***

"He's the naughty one." Avery pointed out to another guest, his acting skills suddenly coming into play. He was mentioning to Carter, who was on all fours with a nervous gaze on his face while the men felt up his thighs. Avery and KJ were watching him closely- KJ not as much as one gentlemen was pinching his nipple.  
"Ow, sir." KJ chuckled to the gentlemen with the whisky tumbler. "Please stop sir, Master has plans for those tonight."  
"Oh you naughty puppy, hahaha." The man left good enough alone, going back to the table to get himself more drunk. KJ smiled at Carter, and petted his hair. Behind him, though, and out of eyesight, KJ saw Diana make a weird gesture- one that looked like a cock pressing against his cheek, and she pointed to Carter. KJ's eyes went wide, and he gave her a long, long look, trying to ascertain that she was serious. She was forced to intervene.  
"My dear puppy Kurt is quite talented." She chimed in. "Do you want to see a trick he can do?"  
"Yes, my dear!" A fat man on the couch with a slave man of his own, sitting at his side wearing a leather thong and muzzle gag.  
"Okay, Kurt make Rhys really happy! Red rocket, boy!"  
"Mmmaa?!" Carter protested.  
"No, Rhys. Obey!" She swatted him on the back.  
"Yaaa mmahhaahh." KJ crawled on top of him, as Carter laid down backwards with his legs spread open. KJ unzipped his shorts, and Carter gave him a look. His thoughts were of fear and bad memories, although... he was not being the victim here.... or was he? KJ was trustworthy, and if any guy was gonna get him off, it would be him. He stared at the green eyed puppy with a smirk on his face. KJ ran his fingernails down the side of his torso, and the sensation was ticklish and scratchy and.... hot?!  
KJ crawled up to him, arcing his back and giving the audience a view. His teeth caressed Carter's nipple, and the blond found himself moaning loudly through his gag. KJ pinned his arms to the floor, and they made eye contact again. This was no ordinary gaze, though. Carter's browns met KJ's emeralds, and felt the sudden touch of KJ's soul. It was virtuous, pure, fearless, honorable, obedient, chivalric and dedicated. No thoughts of malice or lust were felt. The boy above him had one thing in mind; to make him feel only pleasure, contentment, safety. He would be screaming of things celestial when KJ was finished.  
The thought of another man violating him vanished entirely from his mind. Even the audience, and Avery and Diana, vanished entirely. KJ was no mortal; he was an avatar of pleasure, a being more than human to him. He felt his walls collapse, and his defenses crumble before him. He closed his eyes and leaned back as KJ's mouth worked it's divine glory all the way down his chest and stomach to his cock. Avery himself was so enthralled that he failed to notice Diana slip away in the rapture.

***

"I'm in." Diana held her bluetooth and activated it. She concealed it beneath her hair, just in case. She had also ruffled her hair up, smeared her lipstick, and carried an empty wine bottle.  
"Ah very good." Ghost replied. "Excellent choice... KJ and Carter are... I have no words for them."  
"Neither do I, sir." Diana smirked and went to the wall with the circular painting of Napoleon Bonaparte on it. "Okay, now what do I do?"  
"Think of the painting like a clock. Place your left hand on Nine o'clock."  
"Done."  
"Okay, now place your right hand on eleven, two, and six o'clock, in that order, while keeping your hand on nine."  
"Got it." Diana reached up, pressing the eleven position, and sure enough the woodwork gave a small bit of push. She moved to two, then six, and the numbers caused a latching sound to be heard. The wall slid back a little ways, about an inch or two.  
"Excellent work." Ghost replied. "Push the wall to the side and close it behind you once you are through. No need for suspicion."  
Diana obeyed, sliding it easily open, and then easily sliding it shut again. She went down a set of stairs into what looked like a basement of sorts, where she came to a locked windowless steel door.  
"Code is 3075." Ghost said.  
"And you know this..."  
"Because I am God." Ghost said.  
"...did you just crack a joke?"  
"I do that from time to time." Ghost replied, chuckling. Diana sure enough entered the code on the keypad, and gained entrance immediately, but there was a third door a short ways down. "Code is 1412."   
"This is too easy." Diana noted. "Something seems wrong."  
"You have inside help, Diana. I built these systems, and I know them as well as the back of my own hand. I have built everything, and William and Isaac built nothing; they only stole it from me."  
"Speaking of that," Diana added, her voice barely a whisper as she crept through the shadows "when are you gonna tell Avery?"  
"In time, my dear. I have yet to gage his reaction." Ghost replied. "Up ahead you have three operators.... I take it this is the reason you're looking like a soiled dove?"  
"To paraphrase Sun Tzu, deception is everything in warfare."  
"They will be suspicious that you got through all three layers of security while intoxicated, but you are in luck; they are all men."  
"Yes, I'm counting on that. I call it Plan WTF." Diana replied, cold and logically but with a smirk on her face. In truth, she was improvising so heavily she was nervous as hell.  
"Then I shall leave the rest to you, oh warrior queen. Good luck."  
Diana saw the room ahead of her. She checked the safety on her gun- it was attached to her thigh, through a concealed cut in the dress. She looked down, and pushed her dress to the side to expose her boob. She hoped that the males in the other room would be distracted long enough for her to get her shots off.

***

Avery stepped outside to get some air, leaving KJ and Carter to recuperate. He had left them inside, declaring to all the men within that they were off limits. With a cheery "here-here!" they acknowledged his authority over his own slaves and respected his wishes. He glanced out over the lakeshore, the night waves making splashing noises in the chilly dark. The lake seemed like a flat expanse of Abyss before it reached the towers of Seattle, jutting from the flat ground like defiant giants with torches raised to Heaven.  
"Good evening, sir." The old man with the wine glass spoke.  
"Oh shi- Hello, you scared me, sir."  
"My apologies for that." The old man chuckled. "That was quite the show your boys put on in there."  
"They are a talented pair." Avery commented, not acting or lying. He finally glanced at the old man, seeing him and suddenly his soul felt very cold. The old man was one of dignity in his fancy suit. He projected an air of calm logic and rationality, with an inviting gaze from his old tired blue eyeballs. His hairline had receded heavily, and he attempted to comb his ghost-white hair over it. Thin-rimmed glasses adorned his face.  
"Forgive me, sir. But I feel as I have met you before." The old man asked. "I am-"  
"I know you." Avery cut him off. "You're Cyrus Blair."  
"Ah, glad to see I'm famous." the old man chuckled. "And you are-"  
"A familiar face." Avery replied, staring the old man down. A flood of emotions filled him. "I was going to take a walk down by the lake, would you care to join me?"  
"Well, yes, actually." Cyrus said. "I was going to walk down there myself. Sometimes the night's darkness is comforting compared to the lights."  
"I agree." Avery said. He quickly waltzed down below, out of sight of the light.  
"You still have not told me your name, stranger." Cyrus Blair responded as he descended the stairs after him. Avery glanced back, and made sure no one was watching him.  
"Well, my current name is Avery Jones." He spoke.  
"Your 'current name', you say." Cyrus Blair nodded. "So you were once someone else? I tell you this, my boy, we were all someone else at some point. Don't ever feel ashamed."  
"And you and I have met before." Avery said, his eyes watering and lip quivering in both sadness and rage.  
"Oh really? I do not recall, I am sorry."  
"It's alright. It was over twenty-two years ago."  
"Egads, boy that's a frighteningly long time!" The old man exclaimed.  
"I know. Dad."  
Cyrus Blair stopped suddenly. He looked at the man before him, dimly illuminated by the lights from the city and the lake house. "No..."  
"It's me, Dad. It's me, Terry."


	8. Final Baptism

"It shall never be said that I have left my children for my foes to trample on."  
-Euripides, "Medea"

 

BPEW! BPEW! BPEW!  
"Gaaahh!"  
"Shit!" Diana cried, and shot again. The last man was not quite as dead as she had hoped, and she finished it off with a shot to the temple. The technician cursed her with his gaze, and she recoiled, kicking his corpse over so it would stop it's vile ocular assault..... She found the main computer terminal easily. The chamber where security was monitored had many computers, each spaced in a crescent formation along with the room. The back wall was flat with maps of the Pacific Northwest, along with red and black pins marking each location. There were more black than red, she noted.  
"You're looking at the map, aren't you?"  
"Yes." She responded to Ghost's question.  
"The red dots are facilities. The black dots are auxiliary depots for servicing vans or obtaining supplies to keep the slaves alive."  
"There's so many...." Diana noted.  
"Many facilities specialize in a particular gender, and its rare that they have mixed sex warehouses." Ghost explained.  
"And you... built this whole network."  
"Yes Diana, I did. You knew this coming in. Now you can see the extent of it."  
Diana shook her head. This situation seemed hopeless. All the families suffering with their missing children, all the friends wondering what had happened to their mates... it sickened her that so many people were suffering in this shadow world of Hell. "Keep your chin up, Diana. I intend to bring this whole thing down, and many cells are working in other cities just like you and Mr. Jones." Ghost explained. "As long as I watch over you, we will succeed."  
"You're seeking atonement." Diana noted. She saddled herself up the computer, and took the CD out of her handbag.  
"Exactly. I was supposed to die in the fire, Diana. But God in His mercy let me live, so that I may undo the horror that I have birthed. And now, by uploading the program, you shall give me the Keys to the Kingdom, and I shall undo all the wickedness I have wrought." His anger could be felt through the bluetooth.  
"Angels at your back, sir." She saluted him verbally. To which Ghost chuckled.  
"Thank you, Diana. Now upload the Centipede program. I shall soon have dominion over the network once more."

***

"Terry? Oh God...." Cyrus Blair took a step back from his son. Avery held out his arms in the overcast night, the lights of the city in the distance, and the lights from the nearby lakehouse silhouetting his form.   
"In the flesh, Dad." He retorted. "It's been a long time since I've seen you."  
"But how? Did they set you free?"  
Avery glared at him. "No, Dad. I fucking escaped. And now you have a lot of explaining to do. WHY?!" He shouted, spittle flying. Old man Cyrus Blair pursed his lips together in grimace, with no obvious excuse and he knew it.  
"Terry.... Oh how I never imagined I would be in this situation. Fate is most cruel."  
"You're fucking tellin' ME." Avery snapped.  
"Don't you dare take that tone with me." Cyrus growled. "Yes, you got the shit end of the stick in life, but I did what I thought was best!"  
"THEFUCK...." Avery growled back.  
"Or have you forgotten?" Cyrus snapped back in mocking tone. "Do you remember your stepmother?"  
"Yes. She was milking you for your money and you moved her in within months of Mom dying." Avery's eyes narrowed in murderous hatred. "Because you were fucking around the entire time."  
"I was doing NO SUCH THING!" Cyrus retorted, his feathers ruffled and flustered. "I met her and she brought the light back into my world! And you killed her!"  
"How the fuck?! I didn't kill her! She died in the fire that destroyed the house!"  
"Yes... the one YOU started."  
"It was an accident."  
"My foot it bloody was!" Cyrus roared. "The fire destroyed my home and took away my wife! And you ran outside to save yourself instead of her!"  
"What? She was drunk, possibly! She drank herself into a coma every night. You KNEW this, you asshole."  
Cyrus wiped the tears out of his eyes with his free hand. "You always hated her so much. You were never nice at all, and it strained us so much. I didn't want to be mourning your mother forever, but you wouldn't let me move on!" The memories rushed back to them both, words unspoken for decades and seething rage that had never gotten a chance to manifest itself until now.  
"And then you sell me to the monsters.... WHY Dad, WHY THE FLYING FUCK would you EVER CONSIDER DOING THAT?"  
"Because.... after she died, Terry. I could not stand to look at you. The very sight of you made me sick with bad memories. I wanted to kill you, Terry. But I knew that wasn't feasible. You represent all that I've lost in life. You had to go."  
"Wow.... you.... are even more of a heartless bastard than I thought you were."  
"I heard Master Isaac could not break you." Cyrus said. "That is quite the impressive feat, but then again, you always were a stubborn child."  
"Answer my question." Avery demanded.  
"Oh certainly." Cyrus replied sardonically.  
"How do you sleep at night?"  
"Alcohol, pills and time. Eventually the memories faded away, and the guilt was gone too."  
"What did you say to everyone else? Like where was I?"  
"I told them you ran away from home, and you've been a missing person ever since." Cyrus chuckled. "It was almost too easy to make you just go away."  
Avery tried to remain composed, but a stray tear fell down his cheek. "You monster."  
"I suppose I am, aren't I?" Cyrus shook his head. "But no, I made the best decision possible. I got rid of you, so that my life would not be dragged down to nothing. Now I'm successful, I remarried and I have found contentment."  
"You have no heart or soul."  
"Bah." Cyrus scoffed. "I had to remove a toxic object from my life, and now here it is, back to haunt me once again."  
"You don't feel ANY remorse?" Avery demanded.  
"Honestly, no." Cyrus replied. "I did for a while, seeing the men drag you out of the house and into the van was a little traumatic at first, but eventually the memory faded away. Until now."  
"I was thirteen, you fucking asshole! You were supposed to protect me from god-awful things like that, not THROW ME INTO THEM! You fucking betrayed me!!"  
Cyrus doffed the last of his wine, the bitterness mixing with his emotions. He was so angry he threw the glass onto the rocks. "I suppose I did."  
Avery shook his head. "It's people like you who just poison the world by existing. Your kind doesn't deserve to fucking live!"  
"So are you here to kill me?"  
"The thought is crossing my mind right fucking now."  
Cyrus dusted himself off and straightened his coat. "I thought it would be something like that. Well, if you're gonna do it, then I wish to die with my boots on."  
"After the hell you put me through, you don't get requests." Avery in his fury drew his knife.  
"Ha!" Cyrus laughed, drawing from his breast pocket a small pistol. "This is funny. The proverbial knife to a gunfight." Avery froze in his shoes as the gun was leveled at him. "Looks like I ended up killing you after all, Terry. How ironic."  
Avery felt nothing but rage for this man, and he screamed in raw primal fury, throwing his knife at Cyrus, who panicked and ducked while pulling the trigger- and realizing too late that he had left the safety of his gun on. Avery knocked the gun from his ancient fingers easily, knocking the old man down and proceeding to beat him repeatedly in the face and chest. He picked the old man up by the shirt collar, and while he screamed in horrific fear, threw him into the lake, following him like a rabid titan on an unstoppable warpath. Cyrus fought, punching Avery square in the jaw; he tasted blood. He gripped the old man by the collar and drove him under the water.  
While forcing him underwater, Avery repeatedly beat him in the stomach, and the old man delivered a swift kick to between Avery's legs, the old, out of breath man struggling to get back unto the dry shore once again. Picking up a heavy rock from the shore, Avery chucked it with all his might, and struck Cyrus in the lower back, sending the old man screaming onto the damp rocks.  
Out of breath, Avery ran up to him, and the old man gritted his teeth. "You win! Please don't kill me!"  
"Fat chance, you son of a bitch." Avery grabbed him, dragging him back out into the cold water. He held the screaming old man down, this time under water for good. He pulled him out again, as if it were some form of lethal baptism.... and then dunked him down once more. Avery held his father down by the throat, squeezing and crushing his windpipe. He could barely make out the looks of utter terror in his father's eyes as he lost his ability to breathe. He struggled and fought and twitched, the inner survival beast that lurks in all men struggling to keep going.  
But within minutes, the struggling ceased altogether. Avery held him down, just to make sure. Soon there were no bubbles coming forth from where his father's face was. He pulled the old man out of the water and brought him back to shore, his corpse soaked in gallons of water.  
"Avery...." It was Diana standing on the shore.  
"Di.... Oh my god."  
She gasped when they came into the light, seeing who it was that Avery had just killed. "No... you didn't..."  
Avery sniffed. "Yes... I did Di."  
She glanced worriedly back at the house, but the horny old men didn't seem to notice them outside. She turned back to Avery. "Drop him in the Oubliette."  
"The what?" Avery gasped through crying tears.  
"There's a shed further down near the boathouse. In it they have a chamber called the Oubliette. It's where they dispose of the bodies."  
"....what the fuck kind of world is this, Diana?!" Avery screamed. She grew tears in her eyes as well.  
"I don't know, Avery. It's fucked world and we are the most fucked people in it." She cried as well. "Oh my god I'm so sorry you did that...."  
"No, the fucking prick deserved it." Avery cried, sobbing sorrow. Despite all his hatred for the man, all his pent up rage.... he nothing but loss from killing him. It was not like when he killed Venus at all; her's was almost justified, if not brutal and bloody. Cyrus.... did he deserve to die? Avery's thoughts went wild.  
"Quick, hide the body, Avery. I need you to carry him. I'll get the door." She lead him to the shed near the boathouse, and opened the shed door for him. In the back, behind another door, was a set of stairs going into a lower room, like a cross between a wine cellar and a toolshed.. In the center of it was a sealed, concrete-and-steel covering similar to a manhole, but sealed tight with a wheel gage. Diana turned the wheel on top of the cover, and said quickly. "Hold your breath."  
Avery obeyed, and when the lid was up, she gestured for him to throw Cyrus' dead body into it. Avery did so, dropping his father into the dark, dark abyss. Somehow... it seemed far far worse than he thought it would have been. Diana re-sealed the hole, covering it up.  
"How did you know about this? Was it Ghost?"  
"No." She replied. "We used to vacation here. I always thought Mr. Wilson was such a nice man back then- I was once caught playing in the shed and I got a major thrashing for it. The hole was open... and the smell..... was so horrible. I didn't realize it at the time, but that was the smell of decaying human bodies."  
"Jesus fucking Christ."  
"Yeah...." Diana shivered. "Let's get out of here. There's something wrong about this place."  
Her bluetooth vibrated again, and Ghost's voice came to life. "Diana, Avery. You need to get off the property."  
"Why?" She asked.  
"Are you familiar with the Tribulation Militia?"  
"WHAT!?!" She gasped. "What do they have to.... did you invite them over?!"  
"Yes. Go get your pups and get out of there. I told them there was a gathering of Pederasts and they are going to shoot the place up." Ghost said so matter-of-factly.  
"But what about the slaves?!"  
"It is unfortunate, but they cannot be saved." Ghost replied. "Go get KJ and Carter and head along the shoreline to the north. The property extends through a wooded area that will cover you. I will have a boat waiting for you with one of my servants."  
"Oh boss! Wait, Cyrus Blair is dead."  
"............WHAT?" Ghost screamed. "No! This could totally compromise our cover. What was he doing at the party?"  
"You mean you didn't know?!" Diana exclaimed. The thought of Ghost being caught off-guard was far more frightening to her than anything she'd experienced before, for so god-like was his knowledge and awareness.  
"No. This is an unfortunate change of plans.... Avery Jones killed him, didn't he?"  
Avery looked at Diana sideways. She responded to Ghost. "Yes, he did."  
"Then he is definitely ready. Get out of there now. The Militia will be on you within minutes." Avery left to go find his knife, while Diana returned to grab the boys. It had been quite the fucking night for everyone.


	9. Painter's Promise

"Little girls, this seems to say,  
Never stop upon the way.  
Never trust a stranger, friend-  
No one knows where it may end.  
As you're pretty, so be wise,  
Wolves may lurk in every guise!  
Now as then, 'tis simple truth-  
Sweetest tongue has sharpest tooth."  
-Rosaleen, "The Company of Wolves"

 

Thrum thrum thrum went the dance floor once again!  
The cool spring air was paltry compared to the steamy air at R Place, with the boys laughing and enjoying themselves as they continued their mating rituals. Shirts were doffed, and the glittering sweat drops slowly rained down the sides of their fit torsos. Soft bodied twinks wiggled their soft hips for the hard-up (in more ways than one!) muscle jocks, while the scruffy daddy-types embraced their boi-toys with loving appeal.  
Thrum thrum thrum went his heartbeat as he swayed side-to-side, feeling like a dork and trying to find his rhythm. He felt as if this was why no one was dancing with him. He wished KJ were here, and then they could have gone to the Cuff together- he had a crushing pseudo-fetish for the Master types there. He had thought about this, what he really wanted was a mentor of sorts. Both a mentor and a lover. Unlike most guys his age group, he wasn't picky about age- indeed, he noted that the older gentlemen often had their shit together, which he liked.  
Ricky wasn't bad looking; he didn't understand why the boys weren't lining up for him. KJ always commented on how cute he was. He had been hitting the gym like a fanatic, trying to work up some courage to come out and talk to a boy. Actually, he had just come out about 3 months ago, and wanted desperately to lose his dreadful V-card. He hoped that tonight he would get to experience that.  
Yet, he was worried. In the last couple weeks, KJ had seemed very distant and distracted and wouldn't tell Ricky why. And when he pried, well, he ended up hogtied and left in his room all night. The thing was, though, Ricky LOVED it- he had experienced a hard-on like none before, paralyzed by the immobility and gagged tightly. His own "mmmmph!" turned him on so hard he rubbed himself off on the rug and had to needed a new pair of pants and underwear shortly thereafter.  
He wore a form-fitting blue T-shirt and jeans tonight, and his cleanest pair of underwear- sadly he didn't have anything fancy other than some grey boxer briefs. He had spent the whole day shaving himself where he thought he needed to, and left the bathroom a huge mess. KJ would kill him for sure. His hair was light brown or blond depending on one's perception, and his eyes were just dark- they shifted colors depending on the day. He was very fit and had an enticingly muscular body.  
Thrum thrum thrum went the dance floor as Ricky danced by himself. He felt very alone, despite being surrounded by a ton of gay boys. One couple in particular caught his interest with how passionately they were into each other. They had tattoos on their shoulders and arms, and were well-built guys. Their mutually-colored blond hair was spiked and raised like the headdress of some exotic tropical bird in mating season. Their hips swayed in unison to the beat and they heedlessly ignored everyone around them as they kissed and eye-fucked one another in the midst of the sea of people.  
The less muscular, more runner-type kept glancing at him, and he hid his gaze quickly, for he didn't want to cause trouble. He was suddenly shocked when the couple appeared, with him in the middle. The muscular one held his shoulders, stroking them sensually, while the skinny svelte one with the forearm tattoo rubbed his waste. Ricky found himself grinning like a goofball and tried to keep up with them. He felt his shirt suddenly defy gravity as it was lifted off him, with the guy in front of inhaling the scent and seemingly to get off on it. It was a huge turn-on!  
Even more of a turn-on was when the guy behind him wrapped his arm around his neck while the other hand began tracing lines along his stomach, circling down in a spiral of eroticism to his belt-line and teasing the boundary between. The guy in front of him pulled his arm behind his head (Ricky's) and inhaled his armpit, licking and burying his face in while his partner laughed. That same man behind him was also nibbling on his earlobe, and Ricky felt himself going nuts down below the belt!  
But the best part.... was the three-way kiss....

***

They were walking out of the Nightclub, their bodies spent and glistening with sweat drops. The cool air was most soothing, as they walked down the dewy stones to a relatively young bar a few twisted blocks away, called the Lobby.  
"By the way, I'm Gale, and this is Cory." The svelte on replied, pointing to his boyfriend.  
"Gale?" Ricky asked.  
"Short for Galahad, actually. My parents were nerds." Gale rolled his eyes.  
"Jeez." Ricky smiled. "Ricky."  
"Aw, cute!" Cory complimented. "So why're you dancing by yourself? Date stand you up?"  
"Sort of. My roommate/wingman did."  
"Sadness." Cory replied. "Stick with us, we'll take care of you. Cute boys shouldn't be wandering around alone anyways. There outta be a law against it."  
Gale gave him a weird look, and giggled. "Don't mind him he's a dork."  
"Don't mind him he's dating a dork." Cory retorted with a mean-mugging look that was obviously meant to be silly. Ricky glanced away, a little embarrassed and a little shy. These two were so... into each other.  
"OMG you look adorable. Hold still." Gale pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of him, standing under the streetlight with his embarrassed smile on his face. "Tell me you have a boyfriend."  
"Um.... no."  
"WHAT! How is this possible?!" Cory exclaimed.  
"Hey I'm new."  
"Wait you like, just came out or something?"  
"Three months ago." Ricky rubbed the back of his head in shame.  
"OH MY GOD welcome to the gay world!" Gale suddenly hugged him tightly. He smelled heavenly, and Ricky returned the hug.  
"You ever been with a guy?" Cory asked.  
Ricky turned really, really red and looked at the stones beneath his feet. "I'm... a virgin."  
"Oh wow." Cory put his arm around him. "I don't think I've ever met a virgin before. At least one as honest as you, Rick."  
"Hurry up! My body wants booze!" Gale shouted, several feet ahead of them.  
"I love that man." Cory whispered in his ear with a smile on his face.  
"How did you meet?"  
"Oh that's a long, long story." Cory replied. "But come on, let's go get a drink. I'll buy you a couple, my virgin friend. Consider it a welcoming gift."  
"Oh my goodness...." Ricky wanted to cry this guy was so nice.

***

"You should come back to our place." Gale suggested, sipping a lemon drop. The place was dimly lit with flashing strobelights, and soft carpeting around high-legged tables and chairs. They were on the above floor, overlooking the bar, where a super-hot muscle jock was shaking and mixing like a hand-job pro.  
"Wh-WHA?" Ricky choked.  
"Cory and I would like to show you how awesome gay love can be. Everyone should experience it, especially you, Ricky." Gale was sincere in his words. "Plus you're cute and you make me want to just snuggle with you all night long."  
Ricky was embarrassed again. And Gale loved it. Cory returned to their table with a tray full of shots. They were chocolaty and such. "Cumshots for all!"  
"Um... what are they?"  
"See the cream floating in the drink? Cumshot." Cory placed one before him. "And now Gale the slut is gonna show you how to drink one properly."  
"It's my special skill." Gale giggled. He placed the shot before him, and without using his hands, worked his lips around the glass, getting his entire shotglass in his mouth. He threw his head back and swallowed all the cream and "cum" within, popping the glass out with grace and a smile.  
"Oh wow!" Ricky exclaimed. "That was hot!"  
"Wait til you see the REAL cumshot, haha."  
"Gale!" Cory protested, gripping his shoulder and shaking him. "Go easy on him, he's a newbie!"  
"Better just show them what the fuck to expect." There as emphasis on the word "fuck."  
"Your turn!" Cory placed a cumshot before Ricky. The virgin boy sighed and opened his mouth wide, like a hungry creature about to eat a smaller creature. He sucked on the glass with passion, working his lips around it; he barely fit, and it hurt his jaw pretty bad. Ricky, determined, took the glass and bent his head back with passion. Two things happened; not only did he choke on the shot, but it slipped out of grip of his bottom teeth and spilled all over himself.  
"Aaaaahhh!" Gale roared with laughter, and Cory chuckled as well.  
"Shit..." Ricky cried, and immediately wanted to curl up in a ball and die.  
"Hey, it happens." Cory rubbed his shoulder. "Just keep drinking. You don't have to do it the slutty way either."

***

They were in the van now, driving back to Cory and Gale's place. There was room up front for Ricky to sit between them, and he felt suddenly nervous. He was seated between two hot guys, totally covered in cumshot, and about to lose his virginity... at least, he hoped he did. He got more nervous when they drove out into the suburbs and past them, a long distance. They were northeast of Seattle, away from the coast and in a wooded area. Cory and Gale's house was sort of run-down looking, felt kind of isolated.  
It existed a space away from a "village" of sorts, one with stores and a gas station with small enclaves of suburban houses scattered throughout the woodlands. Their house had a rickety carport next to it, and the paint looked like it was chipped and worn away ages ago. Were it not for the porch light, it would have been the perfect serial killer's shack.  
"You guys live out here?"  
"Yep. Bought the place cheap. It's a fixer-upper, but it's home."  
"Why do you live all the way out here?" Ricky asked. "Sorry if I seem rude."  
"Nah, don't be. I just feel safer out here." Cory replied. "I worry about Gale and I sometimes. I had my apartment broken into a long time ago, and bad things happened."  
"Oh, I'm sorry."  
"You didn't know. Don't worry about it." Cory replied. He got out, along with Gale and the new boy they acquired.... Ricky and them walked up to the door, and onc inside headed back to the bedroom. It was upstairs, and it was kind of cold. But he saw that they had a lot of candles. Both boys grabbed a box of matches and got to work lighting them. Soon enough, the room was softly lit with candle fire, and it seemed more warm and inviting as well. Ricky was seated on the side of the bed opposite the nightstand, and the boys joined him on the edge.  
"Hey, um.... You promise you won't freak out?" Cory asked. Ricky felt nervous.  
"No, I won't." He lied.  
"Gale and I like to get kinky. I just thought I'd be honest with you."  
"Oh, like... how?" He looked suddenly optimistic.  
"We tie each other up. Like, a lot." Gale leaned back.  
"Holy shit! Really?" Ricky looked up in the sky and silently thanked God for delivering him to these two guys. "I... love it."  
Gale cocked an eyebrow "Whoa, wait... you said you were a virgin."  
"Yeah, but my roommate tied me up once... and I really got off on it."  
Cory giggled. "I thought you might be a kinkster." He began to move in, kissing Ricky on the lips. Reluctant, Ricky let him be aggressive, and then Gale joined in, thrusting his tongue into him as well.  
Ricky held out his wrists. "PLEASE." He begged.  
"Damn you're cute." Gale giggled.

***

So there he lay, tied up like a Christmas gift. His wrists were bound behind him, connected to a simple chest harness. Yet the knots were so well done, he knew he wasn't getting out of them anytime soon. His ankles were bound, and against the gray fabric of his boxer briefs was a massive, bulging, throbbing, yearning erection.  
Gale put a piece of cloth in front of his face. "Open." He commanded. Ricky licked his lips and let his host gag him. The bandana was snug and filling, and when it was tied behind his head, Ricky knew he was in for a fun night. Gale pushed him down and began to lick and nibble on his neck, and Ricky moaned and squirmed underneath Gale's control. Cory chuckled and pushed Ricky onto his back, and pulled down his boxer briefs.  
Cory's eyes went wide. "Holy shit!"  
Gale's eyes went wide. "DAMN!"  
Ricky's eyes went confused. "Mmmmaaa?"  
"That is... bigger than I thought you'd be." Cory smiled and gave him a thumbs up. "Nine-inch Ricky, that's your new name."  
Cory stripped out of his clothes, and Ricky saw something weird.... on his hip was a scar. It was strange, like it was deliberately carved. He has small cuts and scrapes all over his body as well. But that scar... he swore it looked like the number 63.  
He lost all thought when Cory sprayed his throat with something. It smelled a bit of mint, and he "Mmmmmmmmmaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!" loudly when the cool mint of Cory's mouth found itself around his cock. He sucked slowly, his numb throat going deep on him while Gale sucked on his earlobe and played with his nipples. The powerlessness, and the hotness of the two guys having their way with him.... it was almost too much to bear.  
Cory increased his pace, and let his teeth graze the surface of his shaft, sending him into skyward heights of ecstasy, and he moaned loudly through his gag. When geysered early, and the explosion of whiteness surprised Cory, who took the mouthful and sputtered a mess onto his bound and gagged submissive.  
"Huck!" He choked. "Oh... ho God." He coughed.  
"Jesus!" Gale looked down at Cory. Cory proceeded to clean up the cum with his tongue, enjoying the flavor.  
"He tastes sweet," he smiled, a dribble hanging off his chin. Cory had to excuse himself to clean everything off, but left Ricky clean and satisfied. The bound boy was breathing heavily, as he felt his orgasm overcome his energy. He relaxed on the pillow, trying to catch his breath. Gale leaned in close, and kissed him on the cheek. When Ricky opened his eyes, he saw Ricky suddenly shove a rag that smelled of foul chemicals in his face.  
"Mmmmmpph!!!" He screamed into the rag, already out of breath and struggling. Fear hit him hard, and the sudden loss of hope hit his soul like a ton of bricks. Gale sat on his chest, holding him down and making hold his breath impossible. He felt his vision swim, and the room spun like clothes in a washing machine.... his thoughts raced, and his ability to focus faded.... and all fell into a bottomless spiral of darkness.

***

Gale kept the rag on him for a while, just to make sure he was out cold completely.  
"GALE!" The anger of his partner was impossible to describe, almost as if one had walked in on his lover with another, only to later figure out it was the best friend. "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!!!"  
"Cory! I'm...."  
"NO! JESUS FUCKING DAMMIT, WHY?!" He ran over and pushed Gale off Ricky, and tried to slap him awake. "Ricky! Rick are you.... shit."  
Gale stammered. "We could make a lot-"  
"NO!" Cory roared. "Not this guy, Gale. NOT! THIS! GUY!"  
"Cory, you're scaring me."  
Cory looked at Gale with utter hatred. "No more, Gale. No more! I can't keep doing this, especially to this guy! You're really gonna take someone who just got the courage to come out and send him to.... HELL?!"  
"Cory we need money."  
"No we fucking don't. Not that kind of money. Tonight was just about us and being romantic and forgetting about the horrible shit we do to survive. Jesus... I see why you wanted to take this guy under our wing now. FUCK!" Cory was furious. "Do you have ANY idea what kind of shithole that place is? Look at this! LOOK AT IT!" He showed off the scar on his hip.  
Gale's eyes watered, and he started to cry. "I'm a fucking horrible person!"  
Cory went over and hugged him. "Gale... we have to quit. We need to get real jobs and just forget about the bullshit. Let's LEAVE!"  
Gale shook his head. "No Cory, without your meds you're gonna die and I don't want that! I don't want to lose you!" He let himself go, bawling into his lover's chest.  
"I can barely sleep at night, Cory. I almost went to church today, because I'm sure we're both going to Hell for all the lives we've ruined. I don't want to ruin another, especially Ricky's. He has a FAMILY somewhere, you know. And he hasn't had a chance to live his life yet. Let's not destroy him. PLEASE, Gale.... no more. No more."  
Gale sniffled, and wiped his eyes. "So what do we do with him?"  
"You explain to him that you're sorry and we won't do a kidnapping roleplay ever again. And if you do, I will saw your balls off with a steak knife. And don't think I won't, Gale."  
Gale pulled away. "But I like the money! I like... our lifestyle. I like having you alive. I don't want us to work ourselves to death and never see each other."  
Cory cried, and his face was one of disgust. He pulled out a small velvet box from the nearby dresser. "Gale."  
Gale's eyes went wide as a lemur's, "How did you... where did you get the money!"  
"I squirreled away enough." Cory sighed. "I was gonna ask you tonight, Gale."  
"CORY! Oh my god!" Gale slapped his hands to his mouth. Cory toyed with the box. He bit his lower lip hard, and then looked up at his lover again.  
"Gale, before I pop the question, I want you to promise me, to whatever divine entity you worship, that you will never kidnap a single boy ever again. I cannot marry you otherwise. I want us to start over with a clean slate- and together, as a single unit. I'm tired of waiting, because I really don't know how much time I have left on this planet, Gale. Even with my goddammed meds, I can still die either in 10 years or a goddamned month. It sometimes doesn't matter."  
Gale sobbed, for the thought of his lover dying hurt him more than anything else in the world. He composed himself, huffing and sniffling. "I promise you, Cory, and I swear on our love, that I will never kidnap another boy again, for as long as I shall live." He sniffed. "Though I'm afraid I'm killing you by swearing it."  
Cory smiled through bleary teary eyes. He opened the box in front of his lover, who was awestruck by the flawless amethyst stone set within the silver band- not only that, it was a big rock as well. They were his favorites, Cory knew. He pulled the ring out of it's holder and made eye contact that was soul-to-soul, on a level that could not be breached by an outside force.  
"Gale, will you marry me?"  
Gale said nothing, but grabbed him by the back of his head and forced his tongue into his beloved's mouth. "I love you, you big snuggly retard."


	10. Ghost Story

"Ah the truth.... that fragment of death..... sometimes I would prefer to live in the shadows."  
-Fedor Kavsow

 

It was 3:18 in the morning, and he could not sleep. Avery sat at his dining room table, fidgeting, thinking about his beloved and whatever horrible things were happening to him. His memories inspired his imagination, and gave him chills. He thought of Tyler, alone, cold and being horribly mangled by the sadistic bastard Isaac....  
What had he gotten himself into? What the fuck was so wrong with the world? Why him again? Had he not suffered enough? These were his thoughts and anguish. He'd slain a woman in cold blood- granted, she was a soulless sadist who thrived on people's misery for profit. Then there was his own father, who hated him so much he didn't have the mercy within his soul to murder, but to instead pawn off to sick people. Actually, Avery didn't know which of these fates would have been worse....  
He remembered those eyes, glaring at him with hatred, shock and fear. They were going to haunt his nightmares forever. A lot of things haunted him.... the sting of Isaac's whip, the feel of his flesh peeling away as the Number of the Slave was carved into his chest... the scent of Tyler's neck and hair, the sound of his infectiously giddy laughter, and the brightness of his eyes.... the pleading of his father as he sank beneath the waters...  
But weirdly, it felt.... GOOD.  
The urge to strike back, to meet the vile and corrupt on their own terms and make them drink the their own poison, to send them to Hell where they were proper citizens..... He shuddered, knowing that this wouldn't be the last time he would be killing. Somehow, with his bogus childhood and fucked up life, Avery felt the whole thing justified. If God did indeed exist, he was a good judge and expedient with people's souls. Much better than mortal arbiters.  
His cellphone rang. It was Ghost.  
"Hello, Avery Jones." Ghost's mechanical voice sounded from the other line.  
"Ghost, hi. What's the deal?" He asked dryly.  
"I heard you killed your own father." Ghost replied. "That could not have been easy."  
"You'd be wrong, Ghost." Avery said. "It felt good."  
Ghost was silent for a while. It felt weird, Ghost being nigh-omniscient and this time he had no answers. It was as if The Wizard turned out to just be a man behind the curtain; the illusion just smoke and holograms the entire time. "Do you want to talk about it? I would like to know what happened."  
Avery paused. "It'd be good for you to know, I supposed."  
"Killing Cyrus Blair may put us in a lot of danger, Avery. The death of Venus was one thing; she worked in a dangerous business; people vanish all the time. But Mr. Blair will definitely get William Wilson suspicious. He has grown complacent, but if he realizes his business is in jeopardy, he will awaken and counter-attack. Secrecy is our greatest weapon, and greatest defense, Avery Jones. Know this."  
"I'm sorry."  
"How did you do it?" Ghost asked.  
"I drowned him in the lake."  
"Shit." Ghost swore. "Did you dispose of the body in the Oubliette?"  
"Jesus, you.... of course you knew." Avery rubbed his tired eyes. "Yes I did."  
"That will buy us time, then. But know that your move was foolish, and you may put Tyler in a lot of danger. I know you care not about your own well being, but try to consider Tyler's fate when you next consider killing a person."  
"That's a sick thought." Avery blurted.  
"I know. But the world we live in is very sick, Avery Jones. So sickened is it that the only way to fight it is to burn out the infection directly with death and fire." Ghost's tone was emotionless, logical and cold. "Despite your stupidity, I admire the brutal savagery of drowning the man. I'm sure it felt good to finally balance the scales."  
"No, it felt horrible. I'm having nightmares of me drowning someone else and it's.... it's goddamn god-awful, Ghost."  
"Yes. I know. I've been there, Avery." Ghost replied. "I'm just sad you killed your father. Granted, what he did to you was unforgivable; I felt the urge to kill the man myself many times; I know what it is like to lose a son, Avery. I could never imagine letting another human being tell me to give him up. He dug his own grave, Avery."  
"Wait, he was coerced?" Avery asked, shocked.  
"Yes, Avery." Ghost replied. "What do you remember of the night your house burned down?"  
"Jesus... that was twenty-two years ago, Ghost. I remember playing with a cig lighter, lighting up paper because the flames were fun to watch. I guess it caught the insulation and the whole house went up."  
"You are wrong, Avery Jones. Or I should say, Terry Blair." Ghost replied.  
"Terry is dead, Ghost." Avery replied. "I'm not him anymore."  
"Interesting." Ghost tone was one of amusement. "You've built a new soul for yourself. I like it."  
"Anyway, how am I wrong, Ghost?"  
"Ah....." Ghost cleared his throat, sending static and weird white noise Avery's way. He recoiled, pulling the cellphone from his ear so it cleared. "I was there when William Wilson destroyed your life in a single night of fire, Avery Jones."  
".......WHAT?"  
"You see, Avery Jones, I was in love with your stepmother. Melissa was the light of my world, a beauty that I could not stand to see fall in love with a soulless cardboard cutout such as Cyrus. You know she had a miscarriage, right?"  
"What... when was this?"  
"Oh, your father thought it was his... but it wasn't. The child in her belly was mine. I swear I know it was, Avery Jones. We were in love, but it was a different kind of love than what she felt for your father. She really wanted you to like her as well, you know."  
"I don't care." Avery said. "She couldn't... replace Mom."  
"No but she tried her best." Ghost said. "She had miscarried months before the fire. I kept visiting her, and we would fall into each other's arms, usually after a heated argument. Love makes one do crazy things.... as you know."  
"Fuck you." Avery swore.  
"I deserve that, I do." Ghost apologized. "But Avery... the night when the fire happened, I was with her. Your father was in Vancouver doing... oh fuck him it doesn't matter. He wasn't there. We had been fooling around, while you were in the attic playing by yourself."  
"Yeah, I just wanted some solitude. I remember that." Avery sighed.  
"It was then that William Wilson and his thugs broke into your house, and they proceeded to maul us with weapons. They broke Melissa's legs and made me watch helplessly. You do not yet know what that feels like, Avery Jones."  
"I get a feeling I soon will, when we free Tyler."  
"Ah, yes, this is true. Regardless! They left us on the floor, broken and bound, while they spread gasoline all around the living room and lit the match. I watched Melissa die that night, Avery. She kept crying out for you, wanting to make sure you were safe. I managed to escape, but I could not save her. I paid dearly with scorched flesh and a ruined body. But as I recovered, you might say the hellfire washed me clean of sin."  
"So you're a preacher now." Avery joked dryly.  
"Silence. You see, Avery Jones. There is something I have been meaning to tell you."  
"I'm listening, Ghost. Spit it out."  
"For you see, Avery Jones- I am the founder of the facility. The one that has brought you so much misery. I built it up from the ground and saw it grow into the monstrous cancer that it is today. Once I was William Wilson, enslaving others and raking in money hand over fist."  
"You know, Ghost, I figured you knew too much about the business. So let me guess, change of heart?"  
"Yes, Avery. I seek atonement. I am Victor Frankenstein, if you will, and I must put down Adam, my Creation."  
Avery pounded the table. "And William Wilson ousted you and controls the business now."  
"Oh yes. You see clearly now, do you?"  
"Oh very much, Ghost." Avery growled. "However, you're my best chance of getting Tyler back. So killing you is not an option.... at least yet."  
"Avery the Avenger." Ghost mocked. "I like your tone. It will serve you well when you're surrounded by the corpses of William, Isaac and all their minions."  
Avery had to stand up and pace around. He felt like a tiger in a cage, frustrated and wanting to get out and hunt down his prey. Ghost was the man responsible for all his suffering, and yet he needed him to restore order to his broken, fucked-up world. If there was a God, he was a cruel motherfucker indeed.  
"Tell you what, Avery Jones. If we are both still alive, and all of the slave warehouses have been dismantled, and you still feel a thirst for my blood.... I will contact you and we shall meet face-to-face. I am no match for you, know this. But I will face you down and do my best. Consider getting the revenge you wish with me as my final gift to you."  
"Oh fuck you." Avery replied. "You fucking man-cunt. Don't feed me that horseshit."  
"I am an honorable man, Avery Jones. I always keep my word." Ghost replied. "Do you wish to know why your father sold you?"  
"Because he hated me."  
"That is true; he blamed you for your stepmother's death. It could not be helped. But you know that William Wilson ASKED him if he was willing to sell?" Avery's jaw dropped in shock and horror. The fact that the creepy old man was interested in him, he found more unsettling than all the shit that had happened to him combined. "Mr. Wilson wanted you, Avery. You were a handsome boy. You had a fire in your soul that he craves in all his slaves. And you were a potential witness to Melissa's murder."  
Avery said nothing, only staring into empty void as the pieces of his fucked up puzzle of a life suddenly clicked together. It was as if Fate itself was conspiring, playing a fucked-up game with his life. And someone, he was battered, beaten, but not broken. "Life is a fucking bitch." He replied.  
"True, Avery. But look at yourself. You survived and thrived, and your life, for a long while at least, was on the verge of awesome and normalcy. You are the man unbroken. Life throws rocks, but you emerge and keep pressing on. It is your nature, and it will serve you well forever."  
"The man unbroken...." Avery sighed, glancing out at the dawnstar sky. "I like that title."  
"So you will continue to take my word, and work with me to destroy the facility?"  
"Oh hell yes, Ghost. They won't have enough bullets, blades or blood in their bodies to stop me from destroying that damn place."  
"I like the fire in your soul, Avery Jones. I look forward to watching you be my instrument of justice." And with that final phrase, the phone went dead.


	11. Shots For Drinking, Shots for Vengeance

"All this was forgot in contemplating the glorious and awful scenery before him –light struggling with darkness– and darkness, menacing a light still more terrible, and announcing it's menace in the blue and livid mass of cloud that hovered like a destroying angel in the air, it's arrows aimed, but their direction awfully indefinite."  
– Charles Maturin

Ricky rinsed himself off, quite pleased with his shave job. He had smoothed himself out perfectly, especially his armpits for Gale, and down below for Cory. He didn't go bald down there; he'd done so before, just to see what it looked like; unfortunately he got razor bumps galore and he failed to realize that being smooth meant sticking to the fabric of one's briefs when the sweat of nervousness kicked in. So this time, he was merely fuzzy below the bellybutton, and everything above was down to the bare skin. It was not totally graceful; a cut on his nipple had recently dried, leaving a small red dot on the top of it.  
Pink's badass vocals from the radio made him wiggle his little butt in a little dance. The towel swirled and bobbed like a hula skirt as he applied the aftershave- wincing as it stung his cheeks so lovingly. A quick pit check -a common pose for a guy in the throes of love and lust and wanting to impress his date- made him consider putting on a couple swipes of deodorant. Gale would not be too happy, his fetish being the scent especially. But Ricky felt more confident when his stink was covered up.  
He felt kind of spoiled. Here he was, a guy single until a couple days ago, now in a polyamorous relationship with two experienced kinksters. The last time he played with them was kind of rough. Gale had chloroformed him, and he woke up, untied and sleeping between the two of them. It was an awkward apology, but to be honest, Ricky had expressed his interest in a kidnapping scenario, for he loved the idea, especially with the two hotties he was sandwiched between.  
"Imagine it; I wake up tied up and gagged in a strange place, like some warehouse or something where no one is gonna find me, and the guy who kidnapped me just fucks and abuses me forever." The looks of horror on both Cory and Gale's faces made him think he had gone to far in explaining that fantasy, but they reassured him that it was okay. "I just didn't expect that fantasy from a newb." Cory had added later. "I think we could definitely do something."

They were to come early, so that the three of them had time to play around. KJ was having his coworkers over; they were going to discuss something of importance, but he wouldn't say to Ricky what it was yet. Weirdly, KJ wanted Ricky to attend this meeting, and he said whatever they were talking about would affect him as well.  
He put on a form-hugging black shirt, and dug out a new pair of black briefs he bought just for today. Giddy giddy giddy he was, having a pair of guys to impress. He had lit seven candles, they having the sweet sugary scent of honeydew, around the apartment and let their flames work their magic. Although him and KJ kept the place clean, he didn't want it to smell too much like guys... he brushed that thought aside and checked himself out in the mirror for the seventh time, pulling up his shirt for the seventh time to check to see if he missed any unshaved spots on his torso for the seventh time.  
He swished with mouthwash, the burning of his gums and teeth letting him know that the foulness of his mouth was kissable. This was the third time he'd done it. Granted, it would have been like throwing a nuclear bomb onto a city that, minutes ago, was hit by another nuclear bomb; there must have been nothing left alive in his speaking orifice.  
The doorbell rang, and Ricky about hit the ceiling after leaping with absolute joy.

***

Like a burning carriage driven from the Great Deceiver, the black Mercedes Benz soared through the parking lot to the warehouse, to the Abyssal gateway that sloped down into the earth and into the darkness. The door opened, and the driver slid into the parking space. The sleeping orderly on security detail looked very puzzled as the door opened, and the Great Old One emerged, his darkening aura befouling the air and his rage felt by all who could see him. He strode towards the door, and the orderly wordlessly activated the doors to the halls.  
The place was filthy. William Wilson scowled; they weren't keeping it clean. Of course, he hadn't announced his presence this time; but still, they weren't doing their jobs. He grinned as he heard the sounds of sobbing, training, and a scream off in the distance. Naughty, naughty boys... He burst through the door of Master Isaac's office, finding it devoid of life. Furious, he slammed his fist on the desk, and pulled out the microphone to the loudspeaker system. "ISSSSAAAAAAAAAAACC!!!!!!!!!!!!!"  
The sound of it was deplorable, soul-crushing and rendered hope and kindness obsolete in the darkened dusky husk of the concrete prison. Isaac, busy with Number 78's commencement into the acceptance of training, suddenly lost his composure at the hell-borne sound.  
"MASTER ISAAC, your office! Come IMMEDIATELY!" The Master of Masters roared.  
"Consider yourself lucky, Number 78." Isaac spat on the naked boy, suspended on the St. Andrew's cross, electrodes clipped to his genitals, and thick rubbery piss-hole gag, of which the dripping drool dropped, forced between his lips. His eyes were reddened with despair as the Master closed the door and cut the lights. A hollow, dry-throated sound of hopelessness could be heard, but the Master lacked the humanity to sense it. Upon arriving in his office, he saw HIS master pacing like a furious jungle cat, eyes orange with fury and rage. He huffed and scowled, babbling to himself in what must have been the legendary Tongue of Babel, for it made no concrete sense to listeners and chilled the marrow of the bones upon hearing it. Master Wilson had his back turned, and jerked around unnaturally to face Isaac.  
"Where have you been?!" He barked.  
"Training the new boy. Number 78 will be broken shortly."  
"Good! Good.... because we are under attack." William Wilson furrowed his brow, his eyes changing back to soulless dead grey.  
"What?" Isaac puzzled that sentence out.  
"My investors.... are being crushed like insects." William Wilson tapped his fingers on the wood in darkened thought. "Venus has vanished, and now Cyrus Blair is gone as well!"  
"What? Maybe they crossed the wrong people..."  
"You're damn right they did! Someone is after us -after ME- Isaac."  
"Did it have something to do with the Tribulation Militia shooting the shit out of the lake house?"  
"I'm sure it did." William nodded. "They savaged the place like the bastards they are. There were no survivors, but they never found the body of Cyrus Blair."  
"Wait, he was at the house the night of the attack?" Isaac asked. He had never liked the man, especially since his kid was such a prick and unable to break.  
"YES! Oh yes, even the security system staff were shot- expertly, I might add. But the computer system was not manipulated. What is strange about this entire ordeal.... the house was just destroyed, but the compartment with the monitors was untouched.... save the dead technicians."  
"....weird." Isaac looked away as he thought of things.  
"You know what I think?" Mr. Wilson replied, his eyes blazing in inspiration. "We have someone working against us.... someone smart who used the Militia as cover....."  
"But... who?.... possibly Number 19? His boyfriend keeps saying he escaped."  
"That is a possibility. Or, I was thinking... HIM."  
"What? Impossible. He died in the fire, William. They found ashes and bones everywhere."  
"Yes, but nothing that could be identified. I'm pretty sure ****** ****** is still out there, and he's plotting to bring us down!"  
"****** ******? But he'd be ancient and probably dead by now. The man was not in good health BEFORE we tried to roast him alive, William."  
William Wilson looked at Isaac, wondering how the younger man could be so naïve. He narrowed his eyes, seeing only ignorance in his lesser. "You do not know ****** ****** like I do, Isaac. He is... clever. And he knew what he was doing. It was purely luck that we caught him like we did, and when they never found his body.... I just felt like my work was not yet complete."  
"You're scared of a ghost." Isaac laughed. "****** ****** is no more, William. We took care of him a long, long time ago. Stop worrying about a dead man, and stop worrying about a bunch of dead slaves and slave-owners. Perhaps openly sharing your summer home was NOT the wisest thing to do, Master."  
"You are right on that, but what I don't understand... the Militia never entered the security station. And yet I have three dead technicians. Something is not right here."  
"I'm not good at plotting these things, sir. I will leave that to you. Number 78 is on the verge of breaking."  
"And what of Number 77?"  
"Defiant, as usual. I have been keeping him on minimal rations, and turned his chamber into a sauna and a meat locker, and still the boy keeps on resisting!"  
"Good. Very good. Put him to the true test, though, Isaac. Make use of Torquemada."  
"....what?" Isaac was stunned. "You... you mean it? But it will shred him like a stuffed doll...."  
"I know..... but oh, the contrast.... the smooth unblemished flesh with the scars of his rebellion. You cannot know how excited the sight is... well perhaps you do know."  
"Torquemada hasn't been used in a while... are you sure?"  
"Yes. I am with certainty. BREAK Number 77 into tiny bits if you have to. But I will have him as my slave. End of story." With that the old man swept so evilly across the floor, the dust scattering away from his horrid form as the door screamed shut behind him.

***

So he was in a tight spot.  
Ricky lay on the couch in his new underwear, straining the front with a massive throbbing lance of lust under the fabric. He wore a pair of black mitts on his hands, also encased in cuffs. His ankles were tied together and bound tightly behind him, connected by a length of rope to the cuffs around his wrist. He was trussed up good. On top of it all, a thick black wedge gag embraced his face, shoving it's plug into his mouth firmly yet not uncomfortably. It was featureless, save for the ring in the center.  
Gale had applied to him before his ankles were bound, and lead him around the room like a dog on a leash. It was not just a humbling experience, but a hot one for him as well. Now he lay there, unable to really move, and unable to scream, and unable to cum.  
And he wouldn't have it any other way.  
"You still doing okay?" Cory asked, undoing the belt around his waist.  
"Mmmm smm!" Ricky smiled and wiggled. It was like he was a puppy wagging his tail.  
Gale returned from the bathroom, wearing just a pair of white Calvin Kleins that hugged his little buttcheeks so divinely. He wore a matching set with Cory, those of solid white with a red waistband stripe. Both boys were in great shape, and Ricky knew he was in for a really good time with them. On his finger, Gale wore a silver ring with a large violet amethyst on it, the only accessory between them. Cory hugged Gale tightly and they dueled their tongues in a battle of hedonistic delight. Ricky jumped when Cory suddenly bit down on Gale's lower lip, causing the boy to moan loudly and suddenly. It was both heartfelt and cockfelt.  
Gale pushed Cory down on the bed next to Ricky, who giggled along with him. Gale pinned Cory's arms down above his head, holding them down by his biceps strongly as he dove head-first into his armpit, sighing, moaning, licking, nibbling, tasting.... Although it wasn't his fetish, it was amazingly hot to witness, Ricky realized, and his boner grew more and more urgent to pop with each passing second. Gale moved to the other pit, and Cory glanced over at the bound boy, reaching over and squeezing his cock through his briefs. Ricky mmmmphed! And thrust himself in Cory's direction, trying to get closer and get some release.  
Gale removed his head from Cory, his lust sated for now. "Oh poor Ricky is lonely."  
"We should do something about it." Cory grinned maliciously lovingly lustfully at the bound boy, who was both curious and terrified at the same time. They both attacked him like the way a flock of Incubi attack a virgin.... though if one has never seen this, know that it is with savagery that could only come from the primal lizard brain.... and yet their roughness was tempered with affectionate passion, they both bit his ears, and sucked on his neck, Gale's fingers scraping his back.... Cory snapping his teeth down hard on a nipple, Gale stabbing his tongue into his bellybutton, Cory gripping Ricky's balls under his briefs, while a hand and two fingers snaked under the back and into the hole behind.  
"MMMMMPPPHH!!!!!!" Ricky screamed in utter lust. He felt his briefs fall around his ankles. Cory jacked and squeezed his balls while Gale pinched his nipple and finger-fucked him from behind. The dual sensations set his mind ablaze and he could not think straight.... he swore he saw seven stars flash before his eyes, and in Cory's loving ocular orbs were seven flecks of gold amid the sea of blue in each.  
"Stop." Gale commanded, and they withdrew, giving their captive some time to catch up.  
Ricky was panting hard, and looked back at the commanding, dominant blond that was so eagerly violating him only seconds before. His sad eyes met with Gale's, who was coldly eye-fucking him, and Ricky felt it.  
"Hey sorry." Cory held two things in his hands....  
"MMMMPPPH!!!!" Ricky shrieked in his gag as the clothespins snapped shut on his nipples. The pain caught him off guard. What also caught him off guard was the saliva-coated hand of Cory on his cock again, him licking the tip to give it a little something extra... Gale held him up while snaking his other hand behind Ricky, also lubricated.... When Ricky shuddered and twitched he knew he had found the prostate....  
The dual sensations returned, but Gale's free hand flicked his nipples, shocking his mind out of complacency and making him moan. Cory was jacking himself while he jacked Ricky off, moaning and eye-fucking him deeply while the bound boy growled and mumbled and moaned. The gag worked well, and a drippity drop of drool slipped out from under; hey, one such as Ricky would hardly be in control of those things....  
"Jah!" Cory gasped as the great torrent of milk exploded in his face (he was going in for another sucking) and ended up splattering all over Ricky's stomach. He kept jacking and jacking, until Ricky was spent and just surrendered to Gale's embrace. He flicked the nipple clamps more, making the spent boy squirm and moan.  
"Hold still, lovey." Gale put Ricky down on his back, and went over to Cory, licking the cum off his face in an almost dog-like fashion. Kissed were exchanged, and the sweetness of their captive tasted good with each boy's own oral juices. It was... a kind of alchemy.  
Ricky gazed longingly at the two of them as they ran their tongues down his white-splattered torso, coming to his nipples, where the pinched flesh soon found itself getting a warm sticky licking. Ricky thrashed and kicked uselessly, for the sensation was too much!  
Finally, both boys took hold of a clamp.  
"Count of three..." Gale commanded. "one, two three!" YANK!  
"Mmph!!" Ricky rolled and roared.  
"Haha, you know you like it." Cory mocked and ruffled his hair. Gale got behind Ricky and undid the gag. The wedge gave way, coated in a thick carpet of spit that built spider-like webs between it and Ricky's slave-boy face. A big stupid grin was on his face.  
"My God I'm so glad I met you two." He chuckled. He was gagged again and forced to watch this time as Cory and Gale went at each other like newlyweds on their honeymoon.

***

Cory, being the biggest cum slut of the trio, downed another cumshot. "Holy shit these are good!" He exclaimed, the shot glass joining it's empty brother on the table.  
"Thanks!" Ricky squealed. "I thought they would suck!" He had several more of them sitting on a tray. Company would be coming over, KJ and his friends. He was eager to introduce both Cory and Gale to him; he'd spilled so much about him; who knew.... maybe they'd even have a foursome!  
They were all dressed again, but the apartment smelled strongly of man-sex. Although not unpleasant, it... wasn't totally fit for company. So Ricky put the seven candles of Honeydew away and pulled out the big guns; seven sandalwood candles, each with three fire wicks in them. Soon the powerful scent of those filtered through the rooms.... and it smelled like sandalwood with man-sex..... one could not win them all, but Ricky damn sure tried.  
The doorbell rang, and Ricky answered it quickly. It was an older gentleman, with a scowl on his face and a bottle of wine. "Um, hello. You must be Ricky."  
"Allen, Hi!"  
"Um.... Avery."  
"Fuck!" Ricky swore. "Sorry so sorry."  
Avery shrugged. "I hope I'm not late."  
"You're the first one here, aside from my, um friends. Come in! Come in!" He ushered the older man in and took his jacket into his bedroom. He returned, seeing Avery sitting in the recliner chair with Gale and Cory opposite the couch. Cory was smiling politely, but Gale had a look on his face, wide-eyed as if he knew this man. And it was not in a good way. He composed himself, and Ricky began to worry.  
"So, Avery... you're friends with KJ?" Ricky tried to break the quiet mood.  
"I, um... work with him.... you aren't mad about the hogtie he put you in, right?" Avery asked.  
"Oh no! Actually it was pretty fun! It was a very good night, haha." Ricky chuckled. "So what did you guys do that night? And what was in that folder he didn't want me to see?"  
"Sounds like a good time you guys had." Cory chimed in.  
"Sort of. We met an awful woman, had drinks.... and well, had to ship her down the river if you know what I mean." Avery's attempt at humor came off as dry and awkward. "Um... no offense but it smells like sex in here, Ricky. Did I miss the party?"  
Ricky turned super-bright red and had to head into the kitchen. Avery looked back at the two other gentlemen on the couch. Cory giggled. "Yeah, you missed the... um, fun."  
"Oh drat." Avery laughed. "I always am late to the party, even when I'm early."

KJ, Diana and Carter were rushing, trying to get up the stairs, the broken elevator laughing at them all the way up. When they reached the apartment, laughing at each other's out of shapeness (other than KJ, who was in good shape as his master demanded). He fiddled with the keys, laughing as the door was unlocked the entire time. His master had been working him hard, for they were going over the plans to find a way into the warehouse. So far no plan seemed to work out perfectly. They stood a high chance of being killed, and being captured was a fate worse than death.  
KJ was no leader, and Avery did not seem able to step up to the plate. He had withdrawn from the world for a day as he contemplated taking the life of his own father. KJ had left him a simple message, simply mentioning that if he needed anything, he would be there to support him. Now Avery sat in the chair, looking tired as well. Surely the past events had not allowed him any rest. He did not realize that Diana and Carter were not in the room with him, but in the kitchen instead, putting away their snack-foods and making chat with Ricky.  
KJ sniffed the air and smiled. Judging by the two hotties on his couch, he was pretty sure Ricky got some awesome sex. "I do not believe I've met you two fine young things before." KJ introduced himself. "Call me KJ."  
"I'm Cory," the blond spoke, looking longingly at Gale. "And this is my husband Gale."  
"Husband? Holy shit that rock is huge!"  
"I know, right?!" Gale could barely contain himself. When Diana and Carter finally joined the group, they stopped suddenly in the entrance to the room. Gale and Cory both looked up at the gasping couple, and they too gasped, upon seeing Carter.  
"WHAT.... THEFUCK?!" Carter was furious, and he ran forward and slugged Cory in the mouth.  
KJ was shocked! And Avery reacted with little thought and jumped between him and Carter, restraining the young man easily by twisting his arm behind his back.  
"CARTER!" He commanded, twisting the arm for emphasis. "Calm the fuck down! NOW!"  
Cory got up with Gale examining his bleeding nose. Carter growled. "Those fuckers.... took me!"  
KJ's jaw dropped. He glanced over at them. He suddenly had a sinking feeling, realizing that Ricky had gone out with them not once, but twice.... it was the scariest thing he had ever felt, and his master had exposed him to some scary, scary shit. He wanted to kill these two. "You work for William Wilson?"  
"NO!" Cory shouted. "We don't anymore! I swear it!"  
"Oh so you DID work for him! You lowlife fuckwads!" KJ's tone went from rational to furious, and clenched his fists so tightly that the knuckles cracked loudly.  
"KJ! DOWN!" Avery commanded. He turned to the boys on the couch. "What are you doing here? And be honest. I've killed two people in the last couple days. I have nothing left to lose." His tone was cold and logical, and yet he was talking easily about taking lives.  
Gale spoke, his eyes teary with fear. "We came over to play around with Ricky, the sweetest guy I've ever met." Ricky was watching from the kitchen, mesmerized and terrorized by what suddenly happened to his party.  
Avery cleared his throat. "Okay. Were you thinking of kidnapping him for Mr. Wilson?"  
Cory shot Gale a glance, trying to determine what they should do. Cory immediately jumped up, a little hysterical. "Please don't hurt Gale, I'm begging you!"  
"SIT." Avery barked. Cory obeyed. "Okay, if you're honest, nobody gets hurt. But did you, or did you not?"  
"...Yes." Gale sobbed. "And I'm sorry, Ricky. Cory talked me out of it, though." He glanced at his ring. Cory held his hand tightly, as if they were suddenly going to lose each other. Although they felt it might be true.  
Avery spoke again. "And did you kidnap Carter?"  
"Yes." Cory admitted. "That... was us. I can't apologize to him enough, but I don't think you'd accept it anyway, Carter."  
"Don't fucking talk to me." Carter was livid. But Diana held his shoulders reassuringly. Avery sighed and rubbed his eyes in frustration. But he still had one more question.  
"Now... Cory... Gale.... answer me honestly." Avery choked. He pulled out his wallet, and revealed a small picture. It was him and Tyler, a silly photobooth picture they had taken on their fourth date. He took out that picture, and gave it to Cory, who stared at it, wide-eyed and with rapid breathing. Gale gasped as well.  
"Did you kidnap the boy in that picture." Avery demanded. His voice was cracking, though. Cory gulped, and looking at his lover, kissed him quickly on the lips before standing up and facing Avery.  
Cory cleared his throat. "Yes. It was us."  
Avery made a sound, one that was animalistic and deep in the lizard brain where human instincts hide. It was like a gasp, a choke, and a sob all gathered into a single breath of air. He looked at the ground. "One more question, Cory."  
"Yes sir." He said. They all looked at Avery, frozen in his newfound authority. Diana stiffed a scream short as Avery's gun flew out of from his waist; it's silencer-mounted barrel pointed at Cory's face just above the bridge of his nose.  
Avery's eyes were now dark and devoid of happiness. "Why should I let you live?"


	12. Envy and Death

Author's Note: In case this needs to be said, I do not advocate suicide as a solution to anyone's problems. Having struggled with depression, hopelessness and suicidal thoughts myself, I know it can get pretty bad. If you experience any of these thoughts, contact a loved one, coworker, or a close friend- you have many more than you would believe, trust me! Life's problems are always temporary, but death is permanent and forever. Don't do it.

 

"God give me work while I may live,  
and life till my work is done."  
-Winifred Holtby, epitaph

 

Number 78 screamed in his bindings, the cattle prod in Master Isaac eager to taste the man flesh of him once more. He was a fine specimen, but was weak of will, for he had no faith. He was absent from the sky, enclosed in a place that was among the closest to Hell. Here, the Ha-Satans took to mortal guise, peering through the eyes of Master Isaac and his orderlies so that might masturbate themselves on the pain and agony each slave felt. They rarely went back to Hell unspent and unsated.   
"Do you submit, Number 78?" Isaac asked again, a sickeningly poisonous smile upon his face.  
"....yes." Number 78 sighed and cried.  
"Good. What is your name?"  
Number 78 huffed. "Number 78...sir" He felt as if his soul was leaving him. He felt it crushed and ripped and shredded to little bits, torn from his body and sucked into the Abyss. What remained, became nothing but shrivelings of ash and bitter bile building up a new, hollow person- a walking corpse with no will. Aaron looked at the man undergoing the metamorphosis, finally submitting to Master Isaac like many other boys before him. Like him himself. He suddenly felt very cold, with a disquiet settling over him like a rain of salt.  
"Sir..." Aaron spoke. Isaac turned to him quizzically.  
"Yes, Number 67. What is it?"  
"Sir, may I be excused?" He looked only at the ground.  
"Um.... yes. You may." Isaac looked at him, a glare on his face. "Number 78 needs time to come to grips with his decision anyway. I wouldn't want to foster any thoughts of rebellion."  
"Thank you, da- Sir! Sir!" Aaron choked. Isaac raised himself to towering heights and his eyes burned with embers and flecks.  
"You are dismissed."

***

Ryan was terribly busy scrubbing the walls of the shower stall. It was starting to turn yellow from the sweat of the vapors, for the chamber had no windows and little ventilation. He had been spending all day in his room, cleaning and organizing, for he had been a bad slave. And he loved it.  
Something about Number 77.... wait, Tyler! Something about him set Ryan's mind to the light. The way he sang songs of love in the darkness, the little smile he always gave Ryan when he came in with his breakfast. The way that, despite all the horror, he clung to steadfast to his belief that his boyfriend was going to come in and rescue him from this.... hole.  
Ryan thought about the time he first came here. He really had nothing to cling to like this Tyler kid; what happened before the facility took him in (somewhat forcefully) was just a blur he willingly forgot. But Tyler brought the feelings for the surface world back, of what could have been if he was still up breathing fresh air. He sighed, for he hadn't seen the sky in a long, long time. "And the planets, of the universe, go their way.... not astounded, by the sun or the moon- or by the day." He sang horribly, trying to remember the words that Tyler sang last night in the dark. He didn't dare leave a present this time, but he still sat by the door to listen. He finished cleaning and went back to the room. He kept singing the song in his mind, the words clear but his throat unable to mimic them the beautiful way Tyler could. The boy was talented.  
Aaron sat on the bed, curled up with his hands between his legs, gazing into space. He had been crying, for his tears were staining the pillow, and his eyes were veiny with red marks. He jumped up as the door opened, Ryan entering, and seeing him in such distress it tugged at his soul.  
"Aar- 67-"  
"Don't call me that." Aaron snapped.  
"...wha- what's wrong?"  
Aaron said nothing, curling up, and hugging his knees. He looked at Ryan, still alive and feeling; rebelling against his master to help out a slave who was going to probably die terribly at the hands of his psychotic father. He felt something strange, something unknown and something forgotten within him. "I can't feel anymore, Ryan." The skinny nerdy slave blinked when Aaron referred to him by his name. Something was.... WRONG for sure if he forgot protocol... and he NEVER forgot protocol. "I can't fucking feel anymore! I just saw a human being being tortured into submission and I didn't feel a fucking thing!" And he cried, little drops rushing towards their doom by the aid of gravity.  
"Aaron..." Ryan came close and wrapped his arms around him as best he could. Aaron continued to gush tears, but he turned to Ryan's face, seeing that was still virile and not clouded by shadows. It was the eyes, the sparkle within the orbs that made him long to feel again. To not be a husk. To not be a slave.  
"Make love to me." Aaron commanded.  
"WHAT?!" Ryan jerked back. "What? Aaron!"  
"I don't fucking feel, Ryan! I need... I need to FEEL again..." He stroked Ryan's arm, yet the look in his own eyes was one of desperation. Ryan couldn't help but wonder.... how sane was his roommate? He grew scared and shivered, pulling away from the other boy. Aaron, in a viperstrike motion, latched onto his arms, forcing the skinny boy to the floor.  
"AARON!" Ryan screamed. "Aaron!"  
"Ryan.... please.... I need this.... I need to feel you..." A hot tear landed on Ryan's neck.  
Scared shitless, the boy on bottom gulped. "Are... are you sure?"  
"I'll die if I don't." This, Ryan noted, did not appear as an exaggeration. The eyes of Aaron were sort of reverse-dilated; the pupils were pin-pricks while the veins made him look possessed of something from beyond. To defy was to die. "Please..."

***

"Answer the question." Avery demanded, the gun still level with Cory's face. Here he was, facing down the man, or one of them, that had taken the light from his kingdom. It was one thing to know that Isaac was out there, tormenting and destroying lives, but to actually come face to face with the being that brought one such misery was another thing entirely. And Avery felt horrible, for the man before him was definitely human, and stood between him, his gun, and his lover. Fate, it seemed, had pulled another asshole move from her assbag of asstricks.  
Cory, though, did not seem to be afraid of dying. He was defiant and willing, fully, to take the bullet and meet his maker. As long as Gale was unharmed.  
"I will. But you must promise me first."  
Avery glared at him. "You got balls, boy."  
"Promise me. Please." Cory demanded, with a hint of pleading. Somehow, the gun barrel didn't affect his willpower.  
"Speak."  
"Let Gale go. He's innocent in all this."  
"Bullshit." Avery spoke, sending a chill through the air with his lack of compassion.  
"No, please." Cory pleaded, but never broke eye contact with the man about to end his life. "I am the worst person in the fucking world. I want to show you something. It's on my hip."  
"What?"  
"The Mark. The Number. You have one too."  
Avery blinked. "You're shitting me."  
"No. Let me show you." He moved slowly, undoing his belt and pants button before sliding down his jeans and underwear on the side. Sure enough, below the hip and on the space where thigh and buttcheek meet, was a fiendishly carved Number 63 into his flesh.  
"Jesus Christ..." KJ muttered.  
"Explain, then." Avery never took the gun away. "Why did you become a Snatcher, from a slave?"  
"That was me." Gale admitted. "I made a deal with Isaac."  
Cory took over. "I'm positive. Like, infected positive." Ricky suddenly felt very sick, and fearful. Gale shot him a look, trying to reassure him that he was clean. But he fled, scared out of his mind, as the idea of being infected seemed all too close to his comfort zone. Cory continued "and William Wilson kills those who are infected with incurable diseases. Gale made them a deal. For me to be free, another boy had to take my place." He glanced over at Carter.  
To describe Carter's emotional anarchic state would have been impossible. Diana held him, trying to grant him stability. KJ kept his gaze on him, for the boy was about to fly into an uncontrollable rage at any given second. Gale sobbed. "The money was good... we got greedy, and just wanted to get away.... oh God!" He lost control of himself. "Please... don't..." The amethyst ring on his finger caught the light of the sunset and shimmered. It was a beautiful stone, deep in coloration and obviously it meant so much more than that to these two.  
Cory gasped when a tear fell down Avery's unmoving cheek. "Boy.... putting a bullet in you would be like putting a bullet in myself." He sighed heavily, looking away and let his gun go to the floor.

***

And yet, he felt nothing.  
It was meaningless, emotionless, and distant. Despite the fact that he had Ryan by the hair, with the boy's hands tied behind his back, and his throat deeply impaled by his cock. Ryan made choking and gagging sounds, but held it down as much as possible, spit and cum spewing onto the floor.  
And he felt nothing.  
He forced Ryan back, the boy struggling to breathe in the air from the sudden void, fell upon him, kissing, sucking biting his chest. Ryan tried to restrain himself but moaned loudly, Aaron shoving his hand over his mouth as he bit down hard onto his nipple. He withdrew his face from his lesser slave, holding Ryan down via a hang-gag while stroking him in rapid-jerking-lightning-fist motions that burned and made him ache but drove Ryan absolutely insane.  
"Mmm! MMHPH!" He groaned.  
And he felt nothing.  
Frustrated, he sat his legs around Ryan's head and shoved his cock in Ryan's face once more. "Get it wet." He commanded. The sharpness of his words turned Ryan on like crazy, and he obeyed with zeal. Suddenly falling back, Ryan barely had to time to mentally register his legs getting thrown into the air, much less the sudden intrusion into his back entrance.  
"God!" He hissed.  
"Shut up." Aaron stroked the bottom of Ryan's cock while thrusting at a pelvis-destroying rapid pace, and Ryan feared the spit would evaporate soon as the speed they were going.... it didn't, but he mentally was exploding, unable to think due to the joy-buzzer-thunderstorm-apocalypse that his prostate nerves were producing. It was not a loving fuck, but a quit, hateful fuck, and Ryan forgot about how terrified he was of his insane roommate-slave for the moment, losing any ability to tell his brain what else to do aside from react.  
And Aaron felt nothing. The hole in his soul was still there.  
He blew his load furiously into the bound boy, deep-holing him all the way to the base and slowly pulling out to clean himself off. Ryan bucked, groaned... and made an animal-like sound, like a "caw" or something... and clenched his eyelids and teeth together as the pleasure waves subsided.  
His dominant felt nothing.  
"Oh... God." Ryan breathed. Aaron rolled him over, undid the knots, and then went over to his own bed, curling up into a ball on the sheets. Ryan could not move, as the Little Death overcame him, despite being the one who didn't get to orgasm in their play.... He rolled his eyes and head over, looking at Aaron, who could only stare off into the void. A saddened, quivering frown was on his face.  
"I... I can't feel anymore." He sobbed.  
"Aaron..." Ryan reached for him.  
"Aaron's dead, Ryan." He sobbed. "I'm just 67 now. Leave me alone!" He shooed the boy away, pulling up his covers and began sobbing himself to sleep. Ryan, confused and hurt, went back to his bed and pulled the covers up on him as well. He sunk his face into his pillow. Their.... play had been intense, and he felt so loved for the first time, but hurt that his friend was suffering and he could do nothing to help him. This place... truly was Hell, or some pocket edition of it.  
"Good night, Aaron." Ryan whispered softly.  
"Good night, Ryan... I am so sorry." He tearfully apologized, but not for something he had committed yet. 

***

The deep hollow mechanical voice of Ghost could be heard by everyone in the room, and the only one truly weirded out by it was Ricky, who kept staring at Diana's cell phone, set to speaker mode. It was almost as if he expected it to come alive and start attacking them with a knife.  
Gale and Cory were amazed at how much Ghost knew about the facility, and they spent several hours answering his questions. Cory had agreed to join the cause, as a way to try and redeem himself to Avery.  
"KJ, I need you back at the warehouse. We have much prep work to do."  
"Yes, Master." KJ replied. "Would you like a few drinks, sir? Ricky is a good mixer."  
"Haha, ever so loving.... I will pass, KJ. But I appreciate the offer." Ghost replied, and his lightheartedness seemed to take the three newcomers by surprise.  
"Wait... you're his slave?" Cory asked quizzically.  
"Very long story." KJ grinned. "But I serve Master willingly. He taught me not to treat my fellow man like crap, and I'm a believer now."  
"Do you... have a number?" Cory asked.  
"Master does not mark his servants." KJ said with a stern look. "Though we are his pets, servitors and playthings, we're free to conduct ourselves whenever he doesn't need us. It's the Master's way, and I'm his most devout servant." He beamed with pride at this statement.  
"Wow...." Gale replied, truly wordless and astonished. "Ghost's methods are in a way higher league than Isaac's."  
"That is because Isaac does not understand human nature." Ghost's voice spoke up on the speaker phone once more. "Isaac has no empathy left in him. He is a fallen creature, and must be killed for the betterment of this world. Now KJ, I gave you an order, and this one is most urgent."  
"I am sorry, Master. I'll be on my way."  
"I forgive you, KJ. But please hurry." Ghost said. "Cory and Gale, you swear to me that you will aid us?"  
Cory held Gale's hand with the ring on it, squeezing it affectionately. "We'll do whatever it takes to make up for the lives we've destroyed."  
"Good. Because your van is the Trojan Horse that will get us within the walls." Ghost replied. "We will need to coordinate and make this work. It will do us no good if Isaac and William escape. By cutting the twin heads of the snake off, we will cripple this organization, and free so many across the states."  
Diana nodded in agreement. "There are multiple facilities across the west coast states and inland as well. Ghost has other cells like us working to topple them."  
"Jesus... you guys are like the Rebel Alliance or some shit." Cory nodded with a grin. "Consider us fully enlisted." He looked around. "Hey Ricky, where are those cumshots? I just almost died and I need a fucking drink!"  
Avery gave him a raised eyebrow. "My apologies."  
"I would have done the same." Cory nuzzled Gale on the cheek and neck.  
"I would have too." Gale rested his head on his lover's, his closed eyes and wide smile displaying his affection for all to see. Avery did have to admit, they were a cute couple. Behind him, Carter brooded, while Diana remained at his side, a concerned look on her face. Gale stood up and walked towards him, cautious but determined. Cory got a wary look, and Avery followed with curiosity. Gale cleared his throat, and he got Carter's hateful eyes.  
"Punch me."  
Carter blinked.  
"It's the least I deserve after what I did to you. Hit me as hard as you can. I'm begging you."  
"I have to go." Carter turned and headed out the door. Diana glanced back at the rest of the group. "Anything else, boss?" She asked into her cell phone.  
"No, Diana. Take care of Carter, though. I imagine that he's going to have the hardest time in all of this." She bit her lip as Ghost's words rang true.  
"I will, Boss. Over and out?"  
"Yes, I am finished. I shall speak with KJ and reconvene with the rest of you when my intel is complete. Have a good night, all of you." It seemed to weird to have Ghost wish everyone a good night, like he was a normal guy and not some God they contacted only via electronics. Then again, it seemed the closer they came to finally bringing down William Wilson, the more human he seemed.  
"Good night, Ghost." Avery smirked. Even with Carter, KJ and Diana leaving, Avery could not help but ponder at what a strange motley of people he had collected over the past couple days... all working at his side, preparing him for some inevitable confrontation. He was surprised to see Ricky come in a tray of shot glasses filled with what looked like coffee or chocolate with a wad of cream floating in them.  
"Cumshots. Ever had one?" Cory giggled to Avery.  
"Um... sort of." Avery raised and eyebrow, thought about it, and then laughed.  
"You okay?" Cory asked.  
"This is just a really fucked up situation. Shit, I almost killed you a couple hours ago."  
"I know. But death is a close friend of mine." Cory smiled, although it was tinged with sadness. "I came to terms with it a long time ago. It taught me never to wait for tomorrow, and do what you wish NOW." He gripped Gale's hand and smiled bright, and held up a shotglass in his other. "To friends and allies? To shoot the bastards and make everything right?"  
Avery took up a shotglass. "Cheers."

***

The chain was perfect. The collar was perfect too. It was choker collar, one with the loop in the chain that constricted. It was supposed to encourage slaves to keep up with their masters, and if they refused they would often be dragged. He had seen it happen before.  
The chamber he had chosen for this act was familiar to him, but now dimly lit by a single dirty lightbulb that flickered almost like candle-fire. How could he forget? He spent several days in it, begging and screaming at his own father, wondering why he was doing these horrible things. Memories manifested in his mind, but he tried to ignore them and do his task. He remembered being restrained, with his dad cracking the whip, with that horrible Torquemada weapon and it's black glass shards... his back ached. His heart ached.  
He shuddered and grimaced as the memory of the old man, the Master of Masters, came in to examine him like a livestock animal. He remembered mostly the pus-scented breath the creature had.... But it was no where near as horrible as having the old man have his way with him.... while his dad watched in sick amusement.  
There was a metal table where the tools were kept for torture. It was bare and lifeless, and just the right height for him to climb up and reach the metal bar hanging by chains in the ceiling. The chamber had a high ceiling, barren grey cement all around. Only the floor, littered with flecks of dried blood and a bit of other fluids that had permanently embedded themselves, showed any sort of color or life. Aaron thought it must be what his soul looks like right now.  
The bar held the chains that had once kept his arms spread apart. He wondered what happened to it's cousin- probably went to a new chamber for a new slave. They were always changing tools around in the rooms. He tossed the chain over the bar, and let it fall limp on both ends. He took the end that didn't hold the collar and attach it to one of the loops in the wall, winding and tying it until the chain was taught. Quietly and as mouse-like as possible, Aaron dragged the metal table across the floor to where the chain dangled over the bar. He climbed on top of it, and tugged, pulling the chain with his arms. It held. But he had to be sure. He jumped, holding the collar with his body weight. The bar sagged with a creak! But held his body. It was perfect.  
He stared at the loop. And his mind found irony. The same chain, the one used to shackle his will to this horrid place, was going to set him free. He thought of all the things in his short life, how joyous things were, and how happy he was. And then he turned 16, and everything suddenly went to Hell; his dad taking him on a special drive, to a special place. This place. He recalled in horror how the orderlies guided him into this very chamber where they grabbed him, shackled him to this very device and sliced off his clothes with knives. He remembered screaming bloody murder, only to find his dad later being part of this, coming and telling him the most horrific thing he had ever heard; "Your old life is no more. You are Number 67 now, and I am your Master. Do you submit?"  
He learned that the demon William Wilson was going to pay a lot of money for him, once he became a docile, obedient slave. Aaron remembered only lasting two days... and one stroke from Torquemada. Why the old creepy man that had his father slavishly devoted to him, never collected him was a mystery, but one which he did not want to solve.  
As he pulled the chain around his neck, he thought of the people he knew and was leaving behind. Mom was dead, and Dad was a monster... Diana swore that she'd protect him, but oh she had lied to him as well! His Dad lied as well, and it made him feel sick with his horrible luck in being born into this fucked up family. He hated Tyler most of all.... Tyler was NOT like him; Tyler was stronger and had someone who loved him. And he hated Ryan. He hated him so much. He risked his life for Tyler but never for him. The candle, the blanket; they were more than he ever gave HIM.... They were both horrible people who deserved to die, for all he gave a fuck!  
"Fuck you...." He muttered, sighing and breathing, getting himself pumped.  
"Fuck you...." He uttered. It felt good. He felt himself suddenly defying the man he hated so much. "FUCK YOU!" He burst. Oh, he felt!  
"Who's the bitch now, Dad! Fuck you! FUCK YOU! FUCK!! YOU!!" He screamed, pushing himself off the table, his feet on the edge of the table and forcing it back with adrenaline-fed fury. The metal table flew onto it's side with a meteorite-pounding CLANG that echoed through the chamber and into the hall beyond. The bar sagged under the weight, and then all was silent.


	13. His Master's Face

"Towards thee I roll, thou all-destroying but unconquering whale; to the last I grapple with thee; from Hell's heart I stab at thee; for hate's sake I spit my last breath at thee!"  
-Herman Melville, "Moby Dick"

 

KJ and Ghost were going over the plans for the assault on William Wilson's warehouse. A large set of blueprints were laid out, with a small red X marking Tyler's cell, as well as Aaron's, which was further down. Their chamber looked like a war room, for it was; Master Ghost was formulating how they were going to kill both Isaac Milton and William Wilson. That they die seemed to be the most important aspect of the mission, not the rescue itself. To an outsider, it would seem logically cold. But KJ knew his Master's motivations well. He wasn't just working to free the slaves from a single warehouse; there were others to consider as well.  
The Master wore his gasmask; for the warehouse was cold tonight, as if something wicked was blocking out the heat. KJ had his sweatshirt on, but even he felt chilly. They had gone over this for almost an hour already, and KJ had memorized what must be done. All escape routes must be blocked, and the two of them were to die. Master Ghost had access to their security and communications; he could cut them off almost instantly and provide an omniscient view of the whole complex to the rest of the group. KJ finally saw the whole of the wisdom in hacking into the lakehouse security center.  
"And William will never know what hit him." Ghost laughed, muffled by the mask.  
"That's excellent, sir." KJ smiled. "And you got rubber suits for everyone? Dare I ask?"  
"Hehe, the orderlies rely on electricity a lot to subdue their prey. These will provide protection to the main areas of the body, leaving just the hands, face and feet exposed."  
"And they don't have guns?"  
"There are four tranquilizer guns in the facility, stored away. By securing these first, we'll reduce our risk of capture quickly."  
"This seems kind of easy to break in, though." KJ noted. "You sure it's not a trap?"  
"My dear KJ... you are so cute when you're plotting a murder." Ghost chuckled. "I did not have the foresight to build this facility for people breaking IN. It was built to keep the slaves from breaking OUT instead. Thankfully, William is dumber than I am and has not improved the security. This is our greatest advantage among many."  
"You're quite intelligent, sir. This must mean that William is still a considerable threat."  
"You are correct, my servant." Ghost nodded. "Go down with the rest of the servants and get the gear packed away in the van. I'll be keeping it safe until I distribute it elsewhere. I shall be in my office if you need me."  
"Yes sir." KJ bowed, grinned and headed out.

***

"Sir, we've located the warehouse. There is a black car parked outside. Should we proceed?"  
William Wilson grinned. "Yes, proceed. You have your orders. Bring me ****** ****** or his servant. He's sure to have one, if I know him well enough."  
"And what of the others?"  
"Kill them for all I care. Get this done." William growled.  
"Yes sir."

***

Ghost was obsessing over all the little details of the plan, plotting, thinking, counter-plotting, forming backups, that he failed to notice the monitors. When a flicker of movement suddenly caught his eye- movement on a monitor that watched over a part of the warehouse where there wasn't normally supposed to be life. Much less those that Ghost did not know. He suddenly flew to the intercom.  
"We are being attacked! Defend yourselves and escape!"  
KJ jumped. "What?!" He screamed in disbelief. The demoniacs suddenly went to action, looking to KJ for guidance. Ghost announced on the intercom again. "Entrances 1 and 2 blocked. Head out 3. I will meet you there." KJ did not fear for his master's safety, but he did not want to die before his work was finished. So he grabbed a cattle prod off the wall, activated it, and ordered his cronies to get weapons themselves. Armed with baseball bats, stun guns, a hammer, and tiny, pocket-sized zappers, they moved deftly down the corridors to Exit 3, but found themselves ambushed by orderlies.  
"GET 'EM!" They screamed, charging! These guys were serious, armed with batons and riot shields, and wearing heavy combat fatigues. KJ then realized how deep in the shit they were.  
"FIGHT!" KJ commanded, and the demoniacs obeyed, wordlessly charging at the orderlies. There were eight orderlies in the hall, three with shields and the rest armed with batons or small stun guns. KJ had his six demoniacs plus himself, and KJ was no pushover in a fight. The stun guns fired, and three of his men went down in a convulsive fit. KJ ran in behind them, finesseing his prod into the neck of one of the shielder bearers. The man twitched and KJ withdrew, lightning-swift punching the guy in the jaw and sending him down. KJ was an excellent boxer; good enough to take a swing at the professional circuit. The man would probably need surgery after that hit. Hammer and bat hit the shields, deflected off the hard plastic, but his demoniacs were no match for these men; they were outnumbered badly, and outskilled too. KJ dropped his prod, grabbing the wrist of the man trying to beam him in the head with his baton, and twisted his hand to the point where the bones cracked. He then rapidly beat the man in the ribs, sending him to the floor. All this happened in seconds, and KJ flew into the midst of the two shooters with the stun guns, knocking them in both in the chest, clothesline-style and sending them to the floor.  
A shot rang out, and KJ felt a sudden jab into his ribcage. "FUCK!" He screamed and fell to one knee. An electrical pulse shot through his neck, and he fell onto his side just as he pulled the dart from him. The last things he felt was a boot on his stomach and a fist in his face before the world fell to darkness.

***

"Sir, status report." The voice on the radio said.  
"Yes what is it?" William Wilson asked.  
"We've captured a caucasian male, young, around mid-twenties. Seemed to be leading men in demon masks."  
"Then it must be ******'s slave. Is he still alive?"  
"Yes sir. We have him subdued and tranqed."  
"Good. Bring him to me. I will enjoy his torment." William Wilson licked his lips. "And of ****** ******?"  
"No sign of him, sir. He either wasn't here or escaped. We don't know."  
"No matter." William Wilson licked his lips. "Bring the boy to me."

***

He didn't know how long he had been out, but he felt like a fat man had sat on his face and farted. He struggled, finding himself paralyzed, and as his senses came to, he freaked a little, before realizing where he was. His arms bound overhead, connected by a series of ropes to restraints. He was on a wooden board, laying down, spread-eagle, naked except for a fiendish-looking chastity device made of barbed wire. His mouth was sealed shut with black gorilla tape, and his wrists and ankles in tight-fitting leather cuffs.  
He calmed himself down immediately. Other than the torture device around his genitals, this was familiar to him. Master had taught him well, and pleasured him well in situations like this. But unlike the previous scenarios, this time he was in mortal danger. KJ breathed and calmed himself with meditation. Yet, the restraints made him hard, and he felt the little needles of the wire scrape his cock as it became a blood-filled spear of human meat. He found himself further aroused and yet scared crapless at what damage he might be doing right now.  
KJ looked around the room, trying to get his bearings. It was a cell with a low ceiling and a metal table, which was covered with a sheet. That must have been where the tools were kept. The place was dark, dimly lit by flickering lights in the four corners of the room. The door was out of sight, unless he moved his head up. What the hell was that on his neck?  
He realized he was wearing a thick metal collar attached to a chain attached to the device, so even if he got his arms and legs free -an impossibility, even to an experienced slave like himself- he would still have to contend with this collar. It made moving his neck hard as well.  
The door clicked open with loud tumbling locks, and the echoes throughout the room shook his bones. Walking inside was an old, old man with old dead eyes, balding and lanky. Next to him a a muscular man with a beard and a stern look on his face. KJ recognized them both... oh how close he was! He so desperately wanted to kill them both!  
The younger Master tore the tape off of KJ's lips. He grimaced, but didn't scream. "Master Isaac and Master William, I presume?"  
Both of them raised their eyebrows. The old man spoke first. "Why yes, that is us, little slave. You seem to know who we are, but who are you?"  
"Beg your pardon, Sir, but I don't know what my number is yet." KJ responded, and the old man was suddenly caught off-guard. "I believe I should be Number 79, sir. But I'm not certain and don't like to assume, sir."  
"What?" Mr. Wilson asked, flabbergast. "My boy, you are not going to be sold. You are going to tell us everything you know about your master."  
"Beg your pardon, sir, but I am forbidden under oath to tell my master's secrets, what few he's told me." KJ did not betray any emotion. He spoke calmly and composed. To the Masters, used to fearful captives, this was.... new and unnerving. Just as KJ hoped it was. He grinned. "Sorry sir, but I swore an oath. I am a man of my word."  
William Wilson pondered for a moment. "So you are the servant of ****** ******?"  
"Yes, he is my master, sir. Well, excuse me, former master." KJ responded. He turned to Isaac, and looking him squarely in the eye, he spoke the words. "I also submit to your training, sir, if you'll let me."  
Isaac was unsure of what to do. He was hoping to torture the boy a little.... but this just knocked the wind out of his sails. "Um.... well, I suppose..."  
"No." William Wilson waved his hand. "Look at me and only me, boy!"  
"Sorry sir." KJ turned back and looked at the creepy old fucker. He smelled rotten, and his breath pus-like and vomit-worthy.  
"What CAN you tell me of ******?"  
"That he's got the one you call Number 19 with him, and he's going to kill Master Isaac with him. That is the plan. That is all I know, sir."  
"Interesting. ****** always did enjoy working through minions. And one of my former slaves! What a delightful reunion this is gonna be." William Wilson began to run his fingers along KJ's flank, he shivered, for the man was frozen to the bone. "What else did he say?"  
"He's wondering how you found his secret hideout." KJ lied, but he knew that his master could appreciate the information.  
"Oh he's not the only one with lots of information gathering agents and abilities. I have MY ways of knowing things as well, my dear boy. And if you knew how I know things, you would be TERRIFIED." William smiled, but it would never be confused with a loving smile. "What else? Tell me, boy."  
"He has a message for Master Isaac." KJ replied, a goofy grin on his face. They didn't see the sinister malice in the green-eyed boy's eyes.  
"Then speak to him, boy." William commanded, gesturing to the young master.  
KJ rolled his head over, and knowing how much this was going to hurt both of them, he spoke his words fearlessly and defiantly. "Sir Isaac, Former Master ****** wishes you the most sympathy on the loss of your son. Your bed must be a lonely place without his little body to rape."  
KJ knew it was coming, but it still shocked his system hard. Isaac slammed his cupped fists into his ribs, and KJ felt something crack- he groan-screamed loud before Isaac cut off his air supply, choking him with his giant hands. William ordered him to stop twice, before he whipped out a cattle prod and shocked Isaac in the neck with a dextrous jab. KJ felt the electricity flow through him as well and it caused him to choke while huffing. Isaac let him go.  
"BEGONE!" William roared. "Get the fuck out of here and go calm the fuck down!"  
KJ kept staring at the camera on the wall, his eyes pleading and hoping he had made his master proud with his little act of defiance. Unfortunately, it was a slip up he was going to regret, for William Wilson met his eyes and followed them. He grinned and chuckled, a wicked, soul-destroying cackle that weakened the courage of anyone within hearing distance.  
"He's watching, isn't he?" William Wilson giggled, running his fingers along KJ's flanks. "I must admit, your little display there has me.... hot under the collar, so to speak."  
KJ's eyes went wide with horror. William licked his lips. "You have... a FIRE to you.... I like my boys with fire in their souls."  
"No!" KJ squirmed and squealed, trying to get loose.  
"Men! Come help me." William commanded, as two large orderlies made their way into the chamber. "Undo his legs and attach them to the ceiling, if you would be so kind."  
"No!" KJ cried, kicking.  
"Gag him too." William smiled. KJ protested as they moved his limbs and taped his mouth shut once more. Suddenly his backside was cold and exposed, and the crushing motion hurt his ribs and made it hard to breath. He was doing his best not to cry, because this was going to be horrible. He didn't want that deplorable old troll to fuck him.... no, this was a nightmare! He swore it had to be one, it couldn't be real.  
"MMMMM!!" He screamed at the camera. "Hmmmph!"  
He screamed into the black tape as William coated his fingers with his slimy festering saliva and slid his fingers into his hole. Both his fingers and his drool were icy cold and horrible, and when KJ opened his eyes he saw the pale, sickly liver-spotted sagging peeling flesh of the old man in it's unholy bareness. He licked the inside of the young pup's thigh, and KJ screamed and struggled, protesting.  
"You know, boy... A rape is not about the sexual act itself. It's purely about the power. The power to abuse the weak one beneath me. Oh, you don't know how exciting this is!" His eyes were orange with filthy lust. KJ twitched violently and in a jerking motion that hurt his ribs and encaged cock. William Wilson laughed before licking dangerously close to KJ's crotch. He glanced up again at the camera.  
"Are you watching, DARREN?! ARE YOU WATCHING?! Your slave boy tastes DIVINE!" The man laughed before shoving his vile pallid lance into KJ's hole, getting off on the screams and protests and cries.

***

Darren Monroe, the man known as Ghost, the Mysterious Voice, or just Boss, sat at the screen, a quivering lip on his burned flesh, and a tears streaming down his burnt, cracked face. He could not wipe them off with his gasmask on. He felt not as if he were watching a rape in progress, but being raped himself. KJ looked to him for guidance and affection, and was a saint to him. In many ways, it felt like he was losing Holden all over again... but KJ meant so much more in a different way to him. KJ was not just his hand and eyes and body, but someone he could count on, 100%. To see this... was more than he could stand. He pounded his fist into the table, his arm shuddering.  
"KJ.... I.... I am so sorry." He stammered, anger and sorrow swirling together in a tornado in his soul. "Wiliam.... you will fucking PAY for this.... I swear it. I swear it to all things holy in Heaven. YOU WILL PAY!"


	14. The Gift of Hope

"Never count the number of times you have fallen, but the strength with which you arise."  
-Anacharsis

 

He felt nothing. Isaac slammed the tumbler down on the table, the scotch again dry. His eyes were bloodshot, full of rage and hatred for the new slave. The dark haired boy on the table would suffer for his disrespect. He would feel the Master's Wrath full-force, he swore it.  
Rage, hatred, sadism.... Isaac knew these emotions well, but he could not feel anything else, he began to notice. Brooding in his own alcohol-infused thoughts, he realized that he wasn't saddened by the loss of his son. Not at all. He just felt numb and cold, like being out in the snow without a coat. The orderlies had called him in that morning, and the slave Number 71, the skinny nerd once called Ryan, was sobbing waterfalls, down on his hands and knees screaming "NO! Why? Aaron, why?!"  
The sight of the body hanging there by the neck on the chain.... the eyes.... Aaron's eyes were only filled with hatred and rage. Isaac felt that same fury when the corpse locked it's broken, veiny necrotic eyes with his living orbs. He had to leave, immediately. Isaac never let his fear show in front of his orderlies and especially his captives, but the for the first time in a long, long time, he grew afraid.  
He cursed himself for feeling weakness. He swore he'd never be weak again, and never let a villain like Desmond, his now-deceased and rotting foster father take advantage of him again. The world didn't give a fuck, and neither did he. He poured more scotch.  
William Wilson came into the office, a look of diabolic satisfaction on his ancient face. He had a hellish fire in his eyes that told Isaac plenty of what must have happened back in the chamber with the new boy. "He is very tight." William licked his cracked caked lips. Even Isaac shivered. Sitting in the chair with the wooden writing desk between them, the two Masters convened.  
"What do we do now, that Darren is active?" Isaac asked, swirling the glass before him.  
"We wait for him to make the first move." William smiled.  
"That's it? We just... wait?"  
"Oh yes." William smiled and clasped his hands together, almost prayer-like. "We have what he wants. He will have to come to us. We also have the lover of Number 19, a very good bargaining chip if there was one."  
"But... we WAIT? Are you crazy?"  
"I know Darren very well, Isaac. He will challenge me to a duel and we'll fight it out ourselves." Isaac, being totally confused, downed another glass of scotch. William laughed at the look upon his face, and explained "Back when we went to St. Catherine's, both him and I were members of the fencing club. I was president, of course. And he vice president. Our honor ran deep, and I would always beat him. But defeated me once, and held onto that victory forever. Kept challenging me and challenging me. He never gave in. I could not break his resolve.... hmm, quite fitting that he's teamed up with Number 19, the man unbroken by YOU, my dear Isaac."  
"Fuck off." He decided against downing another scotch, though; his stomach was rumbling waves.  
William laughed mockingly. "It will be like a glorious reunion, one where we get to both correct our past mistakes. Oh how I would love to have Number 19 again... the FIRE that boy must been kindling all these years... And he's killed two of my agents as well."  
Isaac snorted. "So I guess the deal for Number 67 is off, then."  
"My Isaac, you are my closest and dearest friend. I will continue to give you both the payment for Number 67, and the payment for 77 as well. Though it is a tragic loss, I don't expect it to affect your work. Break Number 77, and I will give you what I owe you."  
Isaac sighed. "And I can do ANYTHING to get him to break, right?"  
"Yes. I said you can use Torquemada, didn't I? Flay the flesh from him until he submits. Just don't... overdo it like with your son."  
"Over-"  
"That is the past!" William rose from his chair, and was getting ready to head out the door. "don't fail me, Isaac. I want that boy." And he left quickly, almost gliding across the floor like a spirit. It was late, and Isaac was so tired from the day's work. He finally roused himself from his desk, stuffing the bottle of scotch back into his desk and shuffling into the darkened hallway. He felt insulted, and was not in the mood, even for torturing young boys tonight. It was a strange new feeling for him, one he did not feel at all.

***

KJ blinked, trying to dry out his eyes. Although he'd been in this position dozens, if not a hundred times, he felt so violated and filthy, for the old demon Wilson had violated almost every orifice on him. His mouth was dry and tasted like …. sewage and infection; he wore a pair of forceps over his face, metal bars prying his mouth open and exposed. The man had shot his awful white slime into him and left him there after finishing.  
He looked at the camera on the wall pleadingly, hoping that his Master was still with him. He did not despair, though; Ghost was reliable and would not leave him here. He struggled, trying to loosen his wrists but the bindings were amazingly tight. A sudden sense of dread came over him when the door opened.  
He was surprised, though. A skinny, short nerdy looking slave wearing rubber shorts and a form-fitting rubber tanktop came in, blue flip-flops on his feet, and shock collar secured around his neck. He carried a bottle of water and a pack of baby wipes. The lights flickered and danced off his glasses, and KJ felt weirdly at ease with him, despite never having met the boy.  
"Hey, don't struggle. I'll get that thing out of you." Ryan reached behind KJ's head and undid the straps, gently sliding the metal mouth trap out of him. KJ gathered his spit and spat away from him, and Ryan pulled out some wipes and began to clean things up. "I heard you got... a close encounter with Master Wilson."  
"Yes. It was horrible." KJ replied. "And who are you?"  
"I'm Number 71. What's your number?" Ryan asked.  
"They didn't give me a number."  
Ryan paused. "Really? Weird. Aren't you a slave?"  
"No, I don't think so. My Master and Wilson are bitter enemies, so I'm really more of a hostage." KJ replied, calm as a clam at low tide. Ryan began to look him over, and liked what he saw. KJ was fit, svelte and athletic looking. He had no scars other than a few welts here and there.  
"I'm sorry about your friend." KJ replied.  
"How did you know?" Ryan, being surprised, asked.  
"My Master saw him on the security network. Oh shit-"  
"...Your master is coming to rescue you, right?" Ryan asked. Hope glimmered in his soul, and he suddenly could not help but grin.  
"We intend to free everyone here." KJ replied, voice promising and true. "We want to free Tyler; his boyfriend is coming for him. Isaac and William had better prepare themselves, for there is no stopping that man."  
"Tyler Davenport?" Ryan asked.  
"Yes. That's the one." KJ nodded. "And who are you? You don't seem like a very obedient slave."  
"The boy I love is dead." Ryan choked. "I saw him hanging this morning. Totally lost my shit and.... well, he's not coming back."  
"Hey, it's alright." KJ tried to be comforting, as much as he could while tied up. The wipes were cold, but he was very grateful to have this saintly slave in the facility. As soon as Avery and the team assaulted this place, he knew that Ryan would be a valuable asset. Yet, he found the guy totally adorable as well.  
Ryan saw the monstrous trap around KJ's genitals, and gasped in horror. "Oh holy fuck!" He maneuvered around it, trying to find an opening. "When the fuck... what the fuck?!"  
"It's not that bad, just scratchy." KJ reassured him. "What are- NO!"  
But Ryan twisted a few wires and undid the tangle, pulling it off of KJ's cock and working on freeing his scrotum. KJ was nervous but shocked that the barbs didn't scratch him at all. Ryan began to examine the area. "You have just a few minor scrapes, so don't take this the wrong way-"  
"I would appreciate it, actually." KJ finished. He was getting hard, and Ryan began to notice.  
"I've... never seen someone enjoy this before."  
"My Master is a good master." KJ smiled at him. "I am his completely." He closed his eyes, remembering the sweet caress and how little it took within the grasp of Ghost's fingers to be in total ecstasy. Sure, there were painful moments when he did not obey at first, but eventually he came around. KJ would serve no other. Ghost was his GOD, not a paltry buffoon like this false master in the facility.  
"My name is Ryan." The slave smiled at him.  
"Kenny James. But everyone calls me KJ." KJ smirked. He liked Ryan's little smile. And the slave returned the favor, while taking out a wipe and cleaning him off down below. "Hey now, easy down there. Don't want you getting in trouble."  
"Forgive me." Ryan agreed. "I'm... I don't know."  
"You can tell me. My lips are sealed." KJ responded, his green eyes twinkling.  
"When I saw Aaron.... hanging from the chain.... I gave up." Ryan was teary. "I never thought he would actually do something like this. I'm so stupid I didn't notice."  
"You're not stupid. You didn't know." KJ said. "Sometimes... the warning signs are subtle, or we don't know how to respond. I know what you're going through."  
Ryan looked to the floor. "I loved him. I really did."  
"I'm sure you did, I don't doubt your sincerity. You seem like the type of guy that does fall in love." KJ rolled his head off to the side. "I was an idiot and let a guy slip through my fingers. He was crushing on me terribly. So Master arranged a meeting with us in his studio, where Daris -the name of the guy in love with me- had his way with me. He later felt so terrible about it and apologized in multiple texts. Then he just suddenly stopped." KJ began to get teary now.  
"How... can I ask?"  
"He slit his wrists wide open in his bathroom. Sent me one last text. 'I'm sorry.'" KJ sniffed. "It was the last time I heard from him."  
Ryan bit his lower lip and wiped his eyes. "Aaron apologized to me also... But I didn't pick up on it."  
"Don't beat yourself up. It happens. I mean, that sounds like a horrible thing to say, but given your circumstances here, I don't blame you, and no one else will for Aaron's actions." KJ sighed. "I wish I could hug you." To which Ryan blushed.  
"If you don't mind..." Ryan reached over and hugged the spread-out boy, enjoying the warmth. KJ did as well, for the chamber was pretty cold, and the guy was pretty sweet. Ryan opened up the water bottle.  
"Sorry, you must be thirsty." He held it to KJ's lips and he drank it in heavily. Mostly to wash the taste of William Wilson's cum out of his mouth forever. He drank it all in, figuring the sweetness of Ryan's water made up for it all. He dribbled, and Ryan giggled. "You dropped some." The skinny boy took his finger and swiped it up, putting the drops on KJ's lips. He was shocked when KJ, rather hotly, enveloped his finger in his lips; the boy could feel KJ's serpentine tongue wrapping circles around his digit, before withdrawing. A smile stretched from ear to ear. On both boys.  
"You're really cute." KJ winked.  
Ryan's jaw dropped, and he turned a bright shade of red. Here was this BEAUTIFUL jock, trussed up with literally nothing to hide, flirting with him.... he felt alive and full of fire! He smiled, a big goofy grin on his pallid nerdy face. "Your Master... he's coming for you, right?"  
"Yes." KJ smiled. "I want you free. Along with all the other boys here. He'll come. I know this."  
"I have to go." Ryan said with a grin, before him forced his hand to KJ's forehead, pushing him down and shoving his tongue into KJ's panting mouth. When Ryan withdrew after orally impaling him, they both gazed at each other, two slaves with lust in their eyes. He looked down, and saw that KJ was hard and high into the air. "Sorry... I can't do anything about that."  
"I'll just have to wait until I get out, then, won't I?" KJ smiled. And Ryan's heart melted inside his chest. "You're …. really cute." KJ blushed.  
"Oh my god.... thank you..." Ryan blushed too. "I have to go, sorry I have to leave you like this."  
"Not a problem. I love this position, actually." KJ laughed.  
"I will try to visit you! I promise. I won't let them hurt you, as much as I can!"  
"I know you won't. I trust you!" KJ called. Ryan blew him a kiss before closing the door and leaving him alone in the dark. When he was gone, KJ turned to the camera on the wall. "I'm in love, sir! He's... awesome!"

***

Ryan, giddy and excited, made his way down the corridor to Tyler's chamber. Knowing that the orderlies were busy doing things other than their nighttime duty of patrolling, he easily slid into the room, seeing Tyler sleeping on a matress, his legs shackled, his arms shackled behind him, and a black ballgag in his mouth. Ryan shook him gently, and Tyler stirred to life with fear... but it subsided, seeing his saint of a friend down here in Hell. He popped the gag out of his mouth, and Tyler saw that Ryan was grinning like a goofball in love.  
"A friend of your's is here." Ryan said, barely containing himself.  
"Avery! No!" Tyler stammered.  
"No! No!" Ryan reassured him. "A really cute guy... named KJ... oh my god he's gorgeous! Oh... um, he said he's part of a team that's coming to rescue you. Avery is gonna be with them! They are coming for you, Tyler."  
Tyler felt a surge of emotion flow through him, but he was skeptical. "You... you're shitting me."  
"I swear to you I'm not!" Ryan protested. "Avery is gonna come and rescue you. Isaac and that creepy old fucker are so screwed they won't even know it!"  
Tyler let out a gasp of relief. He wanted to cry so badly, knowing that there WAS going to be hope validated his faith in his beloved. After all the hellish torments he'd suffered, it was true! It was true! IT WAS TRUE! Avery would never have just left him here in this shit hole! Oh by all the Gods in Heaven it was true! His seven winged angel was going to come down and smash the living shit out of these demon-whoring cunts!!!  
"Don't submit, whatever you do!" Ryan ordered. "If you do... you'll die. I don't want to lose another person to Isaac. Fuck him for all the lives he's ruined! We're all gonna be rescued, promise."  
Tyler glared at Ryan, looking for any sign of falsehood, and he searched and searched the boy's soul, finding no deception whatsoever. "You mean it?"  
"I swear it, Tyler. I wouldn't tell you if I didn't mean it." Ryan begged him to believe him.  
Tyler smiled, and his teeth were bright in the dim light of the evening. "Oh my god... Avery... Avery IS coming!"  
Ryan embraced Tyler tightly, then pulled back. "Master Isaac is going to hurt you so much tomorrow. I'm sorry, but you need to know. He is going to do everything he knows and will try to break you. DO NOT GIVE IN, whatever you do! Please!"  
"I would NEVER dishonor Avery like that. I belong to him, and no one else." Ryan saw the divine fire in Tyler's eyes. The torch was still burning bright as ever, and Ryan knew that he had given Number 77 another gift, one just as good as the blanket and the little blue candle.  
"Good luck tomorrow." Ryan said.  
"Angels at your back, Ryan." Tyler nodded.  
"Oh I like that! Angels at your back too, Tyler! Lots of angels at your back!" Ryan waved, shutting the door and locking it tightly. The bound boy with the Number of 77 fell back onto his mattress, his gaze towards Heaven and God. He smiled, and then let himself laugh, tears of jovial love falling from his tired eyes.  
His archangel was coming.  
His archangel was coming!  
HIS ARCHANGEL WAS COMING!


	15. The Mad Clash of Heaven and Hell

"All men are made from the same clay, but not from the same mold."  
-Trinidad

 

"JESUS!" Avery jumped, falling back against the fridge. He wore just his bathrobe and boxer briefs, and was holding a coffee mug in his hands until a few seconds ago, when the physical form of Ghost suddenly was sitting at his dining room table. He was a short man with a large overcoat, a cane in his gloved hand and a gasmask over his face. Were Avery not used to the weirdness that Ghost seemed to bring with him, he would have kicked the old man's ass.  
"Good morning, Avery Jones."  
"Fuck!" Avery greeted him. "Don't fucking do that again!"  
"We have a problem." Ghost said, ignoring the startling of his champion. Avery looked at him, confused. The younger elder stood up, collecting the spilled coffee mug. "William Wilson assaulted my lair last night and took KJ."  
"WHAT?!" Avery blustered. "You said he didn't know about us."  
"He is more clever than I thought. He got nothing of mission-ending importance, however. My computers are safe. But he took my KJ. Not only that, he knew I was watching him, and..."  
"...and what?" Thoughts of dread filled Avery's mind. "What, Ghost! What?!"  
"He fucked KJ, riding him like a broken horse." Ghost clenched his fist tightly. "I felt like I had lost my son all over again... He must DIE, Avery."  
"Oh I knew that, Ghost." Avery snarked. He suddenly had a dreadful thought. "We're sitting ducks."  
"My thoughts exactly, Avery Jones. We must assemble. I still have some gear, but we will need to strike while we still can." Ghost stood up from the table, gripping his cane and getting ready to leave. "And sorry about your coffee, Mr. Jones."

***

Ryan composed himself, trying to hold back the tears that he knew were going to flow. Isaac didn't tell him to give a slave his last breakfast for less than anything.... It was a good breakfast too; a pair of waffles with peanut butter, a couple strips of bacon, and a glass of milk and a glass of orange juice. Normally he wasn't supposed to be trusted around Tyler, but Master Isaac jokingly implied "Give the boy some hope this morning. It will make my day a lot more fun!"  
Ryan had the orderlies open the door for him, with his hands occupied by the tray. Tyler stirred from his mattress, the heavenly sent of bacon and other warm homely foods filling his nostrils as Ryan came down with it. Warmth, friendliness and comfort were aspects of his aura today, tinged with sadness. Tyler leaned in. "Thank you, come closer."  
Ryan leaned in, as Tyler gave him a kiss on the cheek, causing the skinny nerdy slave boy to blush. Taking the knife and fork, Ryan cut up small pieces and held them to Tyler's lips, the latter gulping them down ravenously and practically having an orgasm with each taste. Tyler had never tasted such wonderful food in his life! Having eaten nothing but flavorless oatmeal for the past several days, and only one bowl a day, this breakfast was ambrosia from the grandest heights of Olympus! Ryan giggled as he held up the glass of milk, with Tyler sucking it down. "I feel like I'm feeding a cat."  
Tyler giggled as well. Ryan was cute, and totally took his mind off the horrors of this place. After finishing the waffles and bacon, and drinking all the milk and juice, Ryan sat there, a serious look on his face. "Isaac is going to hurt you today. I mean, he is seriously going to hurt you, and you could possibly DIE- it's happened before."  
Tyler cleared his throat. "I'm not going to submit to him. Not ever. I told Avery once that I'm his, and his alone."  
"I know. But Isaac will do just about anything to get you to break. Aaron is dead."  
"...What happened?" Tyler asked.  
"He... he..." Ryan sniffed. "He hung himself in one of the cells. Isaac is pissed now, I think he lost a lot of money on Aaron."  
"Sick fuck." Tyler felt a surge of fury, for this man was clearly un-human and needed to have his black heart stopped, and him buried... probably alive for good measure.  
"So I will tell you now- I'm rooting for you, Tyler. Don't give in."  
"I appreciate your support. Ryan." Tyler smiled. "You have angels at your back."  
"...that's what your friend said too."  
"It's true. They're watching out for you. And they're watching out for me as well. We'll get through this for sure. I know it, Ryan." Tyler nuzzled him, forehead to forehead.  
"I hope you're right. Because at the end of today, you might be a bloody mess."  
"But I'll still be free, Ryan. And that's all that matters."

***

He was given several hours of solace, able to digest his meal, get his strength up. Ryan left him alone for this time. He meditated, focusing his thoughts on all the people that loved him, drawing strength for their bond. This new friend that he hadn't met yet, the words of Ryan, filled him with light and vigorous energy. And the fact that Avery was coming to save him! Oh things were looking brighter and brighter for him!  
The door locks tumbled open, and Tyler steeled himself, standing up on the mattress. If he was gonna be maimed by the Beast today, he was going to do it on his feet like a man. The orderlies instead grabbed him by his shoulders and lead him out of the room violently, down to a chamber further down the hall, where the light seemed to go and die.  
This new chamber had a high ceiling, with a table filled with all sorts of cutting and sawing and other devices that Tyler had only seen at home improvement stores or used in gory horror shows. Opposite of the table of torturous tools was a broken bathtub, it's legs busted, and it sat there like a beached whale taking forever to die. Water dripped from a pipe faucet into it, the sound of the drops echoing throughout the chamber. A drain in the center lead into total darkness, and it was overshadowed by a blackened, bloodstained St. Andrew's Cross. The dried blood made Tyler's eyes widen, for in this, he realized that he was in the play chamber of a psychopath. The room's scent... oh the scent! .... it was a horrid-deplorable malevolent one. The smell of blood and sweat and agony and despair. The room was ghostly cold, a chill that was felt in the marrow and the core of the soul. Boys had suffered and died here, and Tyler was among them.  
He barely stepped on a tiny shard of glass, and watched his footing from there on. Even worse, later on he saw a human tooth only a foot away from the glass. He prayed mentally and thought of Avery, and Ryan and his family, hoping their prayers were with him. The orderlies unlocked his wrists and ankles and locked him onto the cross above the drain, spread out he was; he felt vulnerable and tried to find courage.... anywhere he could dig it up, he brought it forth. 

***

Master Isaac, although at this point he may have been the Lord of the Sixth Circle of Hell for all Tyler cared or perceived, joined him shortly thereafter in the chamber. He wore a full suit of leather, authoritarian hat on his beard-faced head. He had a wicked glint in his eyes, and they seemed to emit a reddish glow from the dim light. Tyler narrowed his brow, and his eyes challenged him right then and there.  
"Good morning, Number 77." Isaac spoke eloquently as he advanced on the bound boy. "I trust you slept well and had a good breakfast?"  
"Cut the crap, Isaac."  
WHACK! "Fuck!" Tyler cried as the swift-draw of Isaac's riding crop struck his stomach.  
"Today is a very special day for us both. You see, this room is called the Confessor. Here you will tell me what I want to know, Number 77. Because if you resist, if you lie, you will be punished. But if you tell me the truth, you get to be free. The truth will set you free."  
"Bullshit-"  
WHACK! "Fuck!" Tyler cried again. "I'll still be a slave! I won't be free!"  
"Oh you'll be free once you're trained properly. You'll be free of worry, that is for sure. Now, then Number 77; will you submit? Or will you make yourself suffer?"  
Tyler sighed. "I submit...."  
Master Isaac gasped. "Is this so?"  
"To Avery Arthur Jones, I submit!" Tyler roared with smirk. He didn't smirk for long, when Isaac backhanded him across the face, fury on his own older face.  
"You disrespectful little shit!" Isaac growled. He cranked a lever on the cross, making it rotate backwards, laying Tyler out horizontally. He glanced down, seeing Isaac unzip his pants, and a look of horror hit him. "You know, I had a bit too much to drink last night. Don't mind me."  
"FUCK! GROSS YOU SICK PERVE!" Tyler screamed as a yellow stream arced down his torso and onto his chin. Isaac aimed for Tyler's eyes, but the boy closed them, along with his mouth just in time. He didn't dare breathe- a challenge, since whatever the hell Isaac had drank last night seemed to take an agonizing amount of time to finish draining from him.  
"Oops. Sorry about that." The evil man chuckled. He grabbed a bucket, and from the broken bathtub/cistern scooped up the water. He threw it onto the naked boy, and the frigid liquid shocked Tyler into screaming! Isaac, his wicked white serpent still dangling out of his pants like some vestigial demonic head, was getting stroked while he held a wand-like device. It was a violet wand. "You know, that water is gonna make this REAL nice." The devil's lightning flickered to life, hungrily zapping at the air.  
"Do you worst." Tyler glared. He found that hatred was an excellent shield.  
"As you wish." Isaac laughed, tapping the wand against his skin. Lightning flashed, and sudden clasp of a vicegrip was felt on the skin, flashing through the water droplets and enhancing the shock greatly,  
"AH!" Tyler screamed, twitching with each tap. Tap! Like a hornet! Tap! Vicious insects bit at him! Tap! Oh how it burned! Tap! He was screaming obscene things as he mind thought of them! Tap! "FUCK YOU!" Tap! "SHIT!" Tap! "FUCKCUNT!"  
Isaac laughed and put the wand down. "Do you know how how hard you're making me, boy? Will you submit? I can do this all day."  
"Suck my dick!" Tyler screamed.  
"That's a slave's job. And I know you're gonna bite..." Isaac instead began to run his fingers along Tyler's thighs, tingling the already heightened senses of his flesh. Tyler gasped when he felt Isaac's finger enter him from behind.  
"NO!" He squirmed. "NO! NO! YOU GET BACK!"  
"And what are you gonna do about it?" Isaac grinned. "I own you, BITCH!" He attached two lengths of rope to his slave's ankle and uncuffed them from the cross. He went to the wall, pressing a button which caused the ropes to wind up from a contraption in the ceiling, pulling Tyler's legs into the air. The Master came back, stroking himself and licking his lips at what he planned to do.  
"Get out!"  
Isaac continued to stroke himself. "Nah, I'll just show myself in." Tyler realized he wasn't even lubing up the hole... He screamed as Isaac's foul cock found it's way into the entrance, with Tyler pushing and shoving as hard has he anally could to get him out of there. The friction, however, was building and Tyler felt his hole starting to burn and he groaned hoarsely.  
"Get out!"  
"Make me." Isaac laughed, thrusting perversely. Tyler screamed in anguish.

***

He left the boy there, panting hard and fighting back tears. Tyler glared at him, his vision obscured but his hatred unfaltering.  
"Will you submit, Number 77?"  
"Fuck off, faggot." Tyler stammered.  
"That's ironic." He stared at the hole he had just violated. "Oh man, you're still a little bloody back there. Should stop eventually."  
"Shut the fuck up!" Tyler growled.  
"Make me." Isaac mocked.  
Tyler struggled and thrashed in frustration. Isaac pressed the button again, and lowered his feet back into position. Tyler managed to kick him in the chest, forcing Isaac back. The master, pissed, grabbed his riding crop and smacked him in the stomach repeatedly until Tyler shrieked "Stop! STOP! I'M SORRY!"  
Then, for good measure, he swatted him in the balls.  
"AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!" The bound boy echoed throughout the chamber and beyond. Isaac laughed so evilly, chuckling and holding his side. Tyler was barely thinking clearly when Isaac began to bind up his toes, securing them so much that he could not move his feat at all. Even flexing his toes was impossible. He was confused and afraid.  
He saw the Master plop down a blue and brown box near his torso. It was a box of toothpicks.  
"I love these things. So much better than dental floss, don't you think?"  
Tyler was silent and looked at him with nothing but wrath. He saw the master take out the toothpicks, and made his way to his feet..... his eyes widened awestruck when Isaac took a pick and put under the nail of his big toe.  
"So... Number 77. Will you submit."  
Tyler resisted, trying his hardest not to cry. "No." He cringed. This was going to suck.  
And suck it did. Isaac pushed the toothpick under the nail hard, and the stinging, flesh-pulling pain made him scream "Aaaarrrrgghh!!"  
"This little piggy went to the market." He moved onto the toe after the big one on his foot. "This little piggy stayed home."  
"SHIT!" The toothpick went under, the wood sharply stinging the flesh. The nail surface irritated and red.  
"This little piggy had roast beef." He pushed the toothpick under the tiny nail, and it hurt worst than the first too combined! It cut deep, and Tyler squirmed in his bindings, crying out as tears fell down his face, trying to comfort him.  
"This little piggy had none." He pushed.  
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH FUCK!FUCK!FUCK!" Tyler swung his head back and forth, eyelids clenched like a rich man's hand on money. He knew now that the last toe... was going to suck the Devil's cock in terms of pain.... and it did.  
"And this little piggy went wee wee wee all the way home!"  
For Isaac pushed it deeper and deeper into the tiny nail, until it reached the edge of the flesh of the toe on the other side. Spears of thunder and lightning shot through his foot, up his leg, through his pelvis, up his spinal cord, and into his brain, where the lightning again shot down, filled with ions of sheer malefic pain.  
"FFFFUUUCCCKKK!!!!!!!"  
"I love it when you scream."  
"I'm not submitting you cunt!! SUCK MY ASS!" Tyler spat his words, eyes glazed over in feral state of wrath. Isaac grinned, and began to twist the toothpicks in the nails, making Tyler throw himself backwards, trying with all his might to wrench his own foot out of it's socket and away from his flesh.  
What he was unprepared for, was the pain of them coming out. Isaac yanked the smallest toe toothpick out, ("FUCK!") followed by it's neighbor ("YOU CUNT!") and then it's friend in the middle ("OH GGGGOOOODDD!") and then it's friend ("FUUAAAAHHH!!") and then the big toe. ("FUCKDAMMIT!")  
"Submit." Isaac demanded.  
"Eat shit!" A slap to his face with the riding crop put an end to that.

***

"Two hundred and twenty four. That's all I got, unfortunately." Isaac sighed. There just were never enough clothespins in the facility. Tyler felt at least a third of them were on his scrotum and cock. His entire body ached, and when Isaac swept his arms along his flanks, he actually threw up in his mouth. Their were clips making lines from the tops of his feet up to the webbing of his toes and in-between his fingers. He had at least twenty each on his nipples or around them.  
"GAHAAAGAAAFUCK!" Tyler cried as Isaac agitated the gigantic cluster of clips; although they may as well have been needles in his ballsack due to the furious stinging. Isaac then pulled on the string attached to the clips on his flanks. Suddenly the two lines exploded off of him, and his flesh sparked pain in megatons of force! "Shit...."  
And then he pulled on the cords on his balls and cock.  
"SSSSTTOOPPP!!!!"  
Isaac only laughed at his torment.

***

"Submit, Number 77."  
"Eat shit and die, SIR." Tyler protested. Isaac walked away, coming back with a razor blade, and Tyler felt his heart stop beating. Isaac grinned before applying the blade to the hair space above the slave's groin.  
"I like my slaves smooth, boy."  
"Get away from there."  
"You keep squirming, bitch, and I will slice the fucker off!" Tyler immediately obeyed, and could only watch helplessly as Isaac shaved his pubes off. Although he had maintained the area for his date, it had been a week since he had gotten back to it. The lack of lather and water made it burn and itch and sting with the blade's touch. Isaac was using an old fashioned blade with skill. The area was soon very very smooth. Under normal circumstances, Tyler would have found this an entirely erotic experience.  
But then Isaac flashed a letter opener.  
"NO!" Tyler screamed.  
"Oh how rude of me." Isaac went over to the table, pulling off a bit gag, bringing it back to Tyler and shoving it in his mouth.  
"Nnnnaaa!" He screamed.  
"Trust me, you're gonna need something to bite." Isaac grinned. "I will ask you one more time, Number 77. Are you ready to submit? Think about this long and hard before you answer."  
Tyler didn't think at all, shaking his head violently, he did the only protest that he could; he gave Isaac a pair of middle fingers. Isaac shook his head. "Then I'm gonna give you something to remember your place, you fucking piece of shit." He pressed the razor blade against Tyler's groin. The cold metal made Tyler slam his eyes shut and brace himself.  
The pain was more than he could bear.... the sensitive nerves fired, and the flesh itself seemed to scream as the razor blade cut into the tissue. Tyler let an animal sound erupt from him, as he tried to move his pelvis and escape.  
"The more you struggle, the longer this is gonna take." Isaac ordered, but with a chuckle that indicated that he wanted Tyler to keep squirming. The old pervert was hard as a brick, too. He continued cutting, the second one slicing into a perfect number "7".  
Tyler suddenly stopped, his eyes closed and him thinking of Avery. A sudden thought came into him, realizing that, he was going to become more like his beloved.... he wasn't going to be smooth-skinned Tyler anymore, but instead would be scarred, like Avery. He loved Avery's scars... they told stories, and spoke of his valiant defiance. If he could do it, then Tyler felt, that he could too. He would finally be worthy of Avery's love! Totally and completely worthy!  
Isaac had cut the second "7" into Tyler's flesh, when Tyler immediately began to laugh. It was muffled around the bit gag, but it was not be mistaken for anything else. Isaac glanced up at him, no longer surveying the bloody symbol he had finished carving. Instead he glanced into pure madness. Or was it love? The line between the two had blurred itself in the boy's eyes. He undid the strap and pulled out the bit gag, and Tyler glanced up at him, not breathing, but grinning. His eyes were tear-stained pools glistening off the light, giving him a surreal, unnatural look. He had a grin on his face as he glanced at Isaac.  
"Now I am worthy!" He bellowed.  
"The fuck...." Isaac stammered.  
"I AM WORTHY OF AVERY NOW! YOU HAVE BLESSED ME!" He laughed in madness, his body aching from his toenails to the tips of his hair follicles.  
"MEN!" Isaac's hell-bred voice sounded. "STRAP HIM UP!"

***

The Orderlies had done their jobs well. Tyler was strapped up to the spreader bars, both on the floor and the ceiling. A smile on his face, for he was in bliss at the numbness his body had produced. He imagined himself a masochist, and was in Heaven at his soul's bliss. He saw only angels singing in visions, they were chanting something that got his blood pumping in his veins, and numbed all pain. They praised him for his defiance of the Dragon, the Beast, the Wicked Man who attempted to claim his soul. Indeed, in his madness, Tyler felt like Christ locked in battle with Satan; that was how his mind was reeling at this point. To give in was to doom the entire world!  
Isaac came in, his eyes weary, his grip angry, and in his hands..... In his hands he wielded the ultimate weapon.  
Torquemada.  
A rare few slaves, defiant as they were, had gotten to see Torquemada, and feel his profane glory upon their flesh. It was a hidden relic, one of such vile violence that it was kept only for the most resistant ones. Upon seeing it, the orderlies left the room with all due swiftness. Where Torquemada tread, there was going to be a shower of bloody flesh.  
Torquemada was a short length of a whip, deep in coloration as the darkest pit of the Black Abyss. It would be unassuming, if it wasn't for it's fiendish design; it was strains of thin leather from some unknown, possibly unearthly creature; but woven in between the strands were blackened, blood-hungry, jagged razor-shards of glass, black as midnight with hints of red from where the blood had been left to dry.

***

The angels ceased their choir and fled, leaving Tyler to face the Beast and his device of slaughter by himself. It was Isaac, now, who bore the eyes of madness upon him. Tyler composed himself exerting stores of willpower to focus his mind, trying to imagine both Avery, his seven-winged angel with the giant sword, and Ryan, his candle-bearing, enrobed saint of a slave warding him away from danger, screaming holy warnings and uttering prayers while waving his candle-fire at Isaac.  
In the madness of his mind, he felt the presence of others. Ghostly eyes guarded his ears from profane thoughts and provided warmth to his cold nakedness. A boy with flaming wings and fierce eyes and a flanged mace gleaming with holy light stood between him and the Beast. A woman, flowing golden hair and sunlight-giving wings, six in number, aimed arrows at Isaac. Flanking him were a pair of angels, clothed in armor made of ice with spears between him and Isaac. Their spirits flowed as one, combining and swirling before him. A shadowy angel with bright green eyes flung his seven wings around Isaac, preventing him from seeing clearly, while a boy hovered in the air, suspended on six wings of razor-sharp steel, razor-wire and chains spilling from his mouth and from a collar around his neck and fingertips to curl around Isaac and attack him.  
They all screamed "RECITE!" Before they vanished, leaving him alone with Isaac once more.

***

"ONE MORE TIME!" Isaac's voice was heard, and the stones shuddered. Torquemada had given him a kind of divine power. "Number 77! Will you submit!"  
Tyler cleared his throat, the voices of the angels in his head beginning the sing once more, granting him strength of will. He felt their wings upon his heart, and drew power from them. "I will die a thousand times before I submit to you! DO YOU HEAR ME?!! A THOUSAND FUCKING TIMES!"  
Isaac could not believe this boy! Had he lost his goddamned mind?! Everyone before him had fallen into tears and screaming, begging, pleading for mercy when Torquemada came into the same chamber as them. But Number 77.... something was different! Isaac hated it! He wanted to smash it , flay it alive and make it pay for ever thinking it could be his equal!  
"That will be your epitaph, BOY!" He raised the whip, and Tyler screamed "HA!" at him, challenging his might with his own will alone! The whip came down on Tyler's chest with a clankering CRACK of glass and leather!  
To describe the pain Tyler was in would be comparing it to having knives rake across one's chest while being stung by a nest of hornets while the gasoline on the flesh was lit on fire. Tyler roared "AAAAAHHH!!!" eyes red with rage at the man defiling him. Isaac in turn, roared back at him, their wills locked in a struggle that would more than likely last until Judgement Day. "GGAAAH!" He cried bringing the glass-blades of Torquemada back onto the boy's chest. Flesh tore, and teardrops of blood bubbling free into the cold impure air.  
"PUSSY!!" Tyler screamed. "HIT ME! HITME! HITME!"  
"DIE YOU MISERABLE FUCK!" It was all primal now. Six times Isaac struck him in the chest, each blade impaling the skin and tearing out tiny flecks as the glass met the flesh and burned fresh holes into him!  
"BURN IN HELL!!" Tyler fumed and furied from the caveman-ape section of his brain; he was being eaten, but was going to rip the dragon a new asshole for the trouble! Isaac moved behind him, striking him with a howl from the bottom of his black heart. Six times he stroked the glassy bones of Torquemada against the flesh of the boy. SIX TIMES, where slaves before him would falter and cry after a SINGLE stroke! And STILL Tyler continued to scream profanities at him, resisting like a caged wolverine!  
"RECITE!" The angels in his mad, haunted mind called.  
"SUCK A CUNT FUCKFACE!" Tyler screamed. Having done enough damage to his back, Isaac moved around again to the front, swinging Torquemada against the boy's thigh.  
"RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" There was no humanity in Tyler's voice. He strained against his bonds, adrenaline and endorphins granting Herculean-like levels of strength to him- the bar sagged, and the screws and bolts sagged as well, almost breaking free!  
"RECITE!" The angels cried once more.  
Isaac swung at his other thigh, striking it and embedding a glass shard into the thigh, missing the artery by inches. Tyler spat at him, beginning to speak in tongues and babbling phrases that made no sense. Isaac ignored him, grunting and his berserk gaze never faltering. He swung, with a glass shard embedding it self against Tyler's rib, and the boy's fury seemed to get even worse!  
"RECITE!" The angels chanted their chorus in his mind.  
Tyler swung his head back just at the right time, a glass shard of Torquemada slicing open his lower lip, blood gushing forth in freedom to spread red chaos far and wide. It was then that he knew what the angels meant!  
"CRUX SANCTA SIT MIHI LUX!" Tyler's voice had taken on a whole new tone, pitch and volume, one that was otherworldly and horrific to behold if one was in the room. Remembering his days as a boy at St. Catherine's, he remembered the Roman Ritual perfectly, using it as a verbal sword against his enemy. As Isaac lifted the whip with the bloody glass once more, he was suddenly in his room again. His old room. From his childhood home. His childhood home with Desmond.  
"NO DRACO SIT MIHI DUX!" Tyler screamed again with his Enoch-influenced voice. Desmond stroked Isaac's face in his vision.  
"No..." Isaac protested. "No... you're not real!"  
"VADE! RETRO! SATANA!" Tyler roared.  
"You've been a bad boy..." Desmond said. Suddenly Isaac found himself once again, spread-eagle on his bed, tied up and with a sock stuffed between his lips, held in place with a piece of cloth. His foster father, clad in the raiments of a priest, with a kettle of boiling water on the side of the bed.  
"No!" YOU'RE NOT REAL!" Isaac cried, even though he was gagged.  
Tyler and Desmond glared down at him from up high. "NUNQUAM SUADE MIHI VANA!" They both chanted in unison. Desmond took a soup ladle full of the boiling water and threw it onto his bare skin, and Isaac screamed in utter pain, his voice no longer that of a man, but of a little boy again.  
"AAAAAAAHHH!! Stop please stop!" Isaac cried.  
"SUNT MALA QUAE LIBAS!" Desmond/Tyler boomed, and he saw also his son. His dead son Aaron, join them in their chant, his glazed eyes fucking burning holes into him in anger. Isaac dropped the whip, covering his ears to shield himself from their dark chant. He fell to his knees while still being tied up and having boiling water thrown on his naked body in his own mind.  
"NO! STOP STOP STOP!"  
"Sinner!" Desmond screamed. "Sinful boy!"  
Tyler and Desmond and Aaron all laughed and yelled "IPSE VENENA BIBAS!"  
"NNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Isaac screamed, bellowed raged and tears shot from the eyes that until previously had never shed tears since his childhood. He fell to the earth, crawling, screaming, crying, crawling and fumbled at the door, standing, climbing himself back up, undoing the locks and throwing open the door. He had to get away he had to get away he had to get away.... He ran down the halls, screaming in sorrow long thought buried. The orderlies dove out of his way, NEVER once before seeing Master Isaac do something like this!  
"NO DESMOND GO THE FUCK AWAY!" He bellowed.  
The orderlies by the door took a glance inside, seeing a show of greatest horror. Strapped to the bars still, panting, with froth and blood mixing upon it's mouth, was the boy unbroken, the one with the voices of the angels in his head. The one who was formerly of the smoothest skin, now scarred and bloody and dripping as the shards of Torquemada's black glass drank their profane fill of his innocence. His eyes shone with amber fire from the stars above, his teeth bared in feral ecstasy; one of a hunter who had just killed off a creature formerly at the top of the food chain. Though he was chained up, the orderlies dared not approach him closely.  
"What the fuck?" One man dared speak in Tyler's presence.  
He looked up and shrieked in a wail of the banshee, but tinged with a Heavenly Lion's voice.  
"RRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!"  
"SHIT!" The orderlies screamed and ran for their lives. Tyler panted, the fire in his eyes fading, before he fell into the darkness of a deep sleep once more....


	16. Before Battle

"My soul was with the gods, but my body was in the village. People just would not act like gods.... Raking backyards and carrying out chamber pots were not the tasks of Thor. I wanted to be away from the drabness and to stretch my limbs in some mighty struggle."  
-Zora Neal Hurston

 

He felt as if his organs were being ripped out. Tyler screamed himself awake as the pain became too intense. He was laying on something soft, and a pair of hands held him down so he would not struggle. He felt cold and wet, and smelled blood. As his eyes focused, he saw the familiar, saintly face of Ryan, his skinny arms holding him steady while an orderly tried to remove the glass shards that the horrific death weapon Torquemada had imbued in his flesh.  
"Tyler! Stay! Calm!" Ryan pleaded.  
"Oh God!" Tyler moaned as the glass piece came out of his thigh. The orderly, who was the most trained in the use of the medical supplies, was attempting to do the best he could; he was a medical school dropout, and had only a first aid kit and athletic bandages, as well as a bottle of hydrogen peroxide. The chemical bath before the bandages went on was the worst; it felt like acid was being dipped into his wounds.  
"Tyler... I'm here, stay calm, stay calm." Ryan held his wrists down, and Tyler looked up at the slave boy with the heart of gold, eyes teary and fearful.  
"What happened to Isaac?"  
"I don't know what you did.... but he was screaming, crying and running as far away from you as possible."  
"I've never seen him do that. Ever." The orderly chimed in, wrapping Tyler's thigh.  
"I don't even remember what I did. I just saw angels and then passed out."  
Ryan bent down and kissed his cheek. "It's okay now... we've almost got the shards out."  
"T-thank you." Tyler cheeped. He squirmed as a shard in his hip came out. "AAAH!!"  
"Sorry." The orderly apologized.

***

The caravan of cars arrived at the run-down little dwelling, off and away from the little village of houses that was common on the suburbs of the Evergreen State, especially in the woodlands. This little house, though, had chipping paint and a soggy look to it. A lonely apple tree, stunted from the lack of sunlight, stood vigil over the white van parked in the gravel driveway.  
"How do people live out here?" Carter asked Diana before they exited her car.  
"There are advantages. You're hidden and away from people. I imagine Cory and Gale like their privacy." She replied. "When I lived in Spokane for a while, my uncle's farmhouse made me feel very safe. That, and he had about three guns per person at his place." She giggled. "Oh and four giant dogs."  
Carter shook his head and chuckled. "Your family is fucked up."  
"No shit, Sherlock."  
Avery's little blue car pulled up, and both him and a man in a gas mask climbed out. Diana and Carter waved to them, happy to see their boss in one piece. "We heard they got KJ." Carter said.  
"Yes." Ghost replied. "Which is why we must act soon."  
Cory emerged from the house, wearing just a pair of jeans and a smile on his face. "Hey! Welcome to our little chateau!" He smirked. "It's not much, but it's cozy. Come on in before it rains again!"  
True. It was cold and damp outside, and getting into shelter was going to be worth it. Diana and Carter lead the way, with Avery walking alongside Ghost. Cory and Gale's home, however, surprised him. It was remarkably cozy, with old slightly peeling wallpaper of soft blue, with a dark green carpet. Old furniture with drab 1970's pea-soup green stood around an old glass-top coffee table. There was no TV, but an old German stove kept the room relatively warm. Gale and Ricky were in the kitchen, Cory joining them, the three gays giggling at the sinfully fun early afternoon they had been having.   
Ricky no longer felt safe in his own apartment, with KJ going missing and all. Avery fully understood; having him captured would have complicated things even more. So Ricky was going to hide out here; it would be the last place that William Wilson's forces would be looking for anyone associated with Ghost.  
Ghost took a seat on the couch, inviting all to come and join him. Cups of tea came out on a platter- it was warm cinnamon-filled chai that was invigorating. Diana's eyes went wide with jovial bliss as she sipped her's. "Oh my goodness!"  
"You like?" Gale smiled.  
"Keep 'em coming!" She giggled.  
"Will do sweetie!" Gale giggled back. "It's my Mom's recipe and my favorite."  
"Pardon me, Gale. We have business." Ghost spoke. "Time is not on our side anymore."  
"Sorry sir." Gale sat down next to Cory and leaned on him lovingly.  
"Later this evening, we will attack. William Wilson will be at the facility, along with Isaac Milton. Avery, from what I've seen, Tyler is close to breaking, and will surely die if William gets his hands on him."  
Avery felt his heart drop into his stomach. "How bad?"  
"Are you familiar with Torquemada.... No you are not." Ghost sighed. "You.... you were the inspiration for the weapon. I remember now, my agents told me of it; a brutal, psychotic torture device; think of a whip with shards of glass sewn into the leather."  
The silence of the room was unsettling at best. Avery, though, did not betray his emotions and leaned forward. "How bad, Ghost?"  
"Tyler was whipped at least 15 times with it.... I lost count, but he did something totally unexpected."  
"What?" Now everyone was leaning in, eager to learn more.  
"He freaked Isaac out."  
"WHAT?!" Diana exclaimed. "Impossible! My dad's a soulless zombie!"  
"No... whatever he did when he began chanting in Latin.... It was.... BIBLICAL, no pun intended..... Isaac suddenly lost his shit and was crawling, screaming and trying to get away. I have NEVER seen a slave do that to him, EVER." Ghost's little beady eyes betrayed their excitement through his gas mask. Silence continued it's vigil for at least a minute as the repercussions of this sank in.  
Carter spoke first, a grin of victory on his face. "Oh my god, we may have a shot at this!"  
Ghost nodded. "Which is why we will need to exploit the time now! I have several pieces of gear that you'll need to equip before we can assault the facility. Bring them in, young men with better backs than I, if you would."

***

The last of the plastic crates were deposited by Ricky. Everyone opened them up, seeing some of the things within. Various melee weapons, scavenged from the warehouse before the ambush that took KJ. Knives, hatchets, batons, a couple stun guns, but little in the way of firepower.  
"No guns?" Cory asked with a quizzical eye.  
"Close quarters, and it's too easy to shoot an innocent. Besides, how many of you, aside from Diana and Avery, actually have training in guns?" Ghost looked around, and nobody raised their hands. "I thought so. I'm sad we lost KJ... I ordered him to take up kickboxing and he's frighteningly deadly at it. We must set him free."  
"And Aaron too." Carter smiled, looking at Diana and holding her hand.  
"Oh...." Ghost suddenly stopped, choking on air.  
"What?" She asked the old man in the mask.  
"Diana.... I, I am so sorry."  
"WHAT?" Her eyes began to water, for she feared the worst. Ghost sighed very heavily, and held onto her hand.  
"Diana, Aaron is dead."  
She took it remarkably well, swallowing her tears hard. "How did he die?" She asked, calling on reserves of willpower and fortitude. Avery noted that she was barely holding on right now.  
"He hung himself by a chain. I'm so sorry, Diana." Ghost replied.  
"Di?" Carter embraced her. "It's okay, don't hold it in."  
"I'll cry buckets after I force-feed my dad his own guts." She pushed both of them off, her face red and furious as she strode to the bathroom. Carter ran after her, concerned and trying to let her know he was here for her.... yet Diana, being the independent little Valkyrie that she was, ignored him as she went into privacy to compose herself. Carter slumped against the wall, waiting, chivalric in his demeanor, for her to come out. His heart hurt in his chest along with her own.  
Ghost cleared his throat. "I also have some underclothes for you all to wear; rubber garments that should protect you from the prods, tasers and stun guns you'll face."  
"What about real guns?" Avery asked.  
"William Wilson does not allow his orderlies to use them, for they may damage the merchandise. Also, guns are traceable; licenses and paper trails leave evidence. To the best of my knowledge, the only trainer that keeps a gun on him is Isaac."  
"So that leaves us fighting face-to-face with these guys?" Cory cocked and eyebrow. "I don't like it."  
"It's better than a stray bullet killing an innocent, or worse, shooting one of your own teammates." Ghost explained. He pulled out a metal baseball bat. "Carter, this is for you. I had it specially enforced."  
Carter came in from the bathroom, testing the baseball bat, which had heavy metal rings melded to it, giving the weapon additional swinging power. His muscles flexed in loving tension as his baseball muscle memories came flooding back. "Thank you, sir." His eyes were glowing with the fires of vengeance.  
Ghost laughed. "I knew you'd like it."

***

Diana sighed, composed herself, and walked out of the bathroom. The loss was heavy on her, but the desire for her father's spilled blood burned with stronger fire than ever before. She hated the man, to the very depths of her soul, and there would no longer be any chance of redemption for him. She was a very angry, unforgiving woman in a very angry, unforgiving mood. Ghost turned back to face her, and Carter, ever so supportive and loving of her, met her eyes. The glance they shared was one of mutual desire; the desire to be rid of the evils of their respective pasts and finally move on with their lives.  
Ghost nodded. She was ready. "Tonight William and Isaac will dine with the Devil."  
Avery smirked. "Heaven help us."

***

"Um...." Gale looked at the little Bulbasaur bobblehead on his dashboard.  
"Um, WHAT?" Diana glared daggers.  
"Why.... WHY?"  
"It's my lucky Bulbasaur. I've always brought him with me on missions."  
"This is true." Carter replied from the back. "Don't argue with her if you value your life."  
Gale rolled his eyes. "Fine." He kept his thoughts to himself, because he was a Digimon fan, and now was not the time for them to be arguing and punching out each other, not with real threats out there trying to enslave them all.  
Avery and the others had loaded up the back of the white van that Cory and Gale used as both their car and their delivery vehicle to the facility. A sense of dread came over Carter each time he opened the doors, for the vehicle was familiar to him. He'd woken up and struggled while tied up in the back, coming loose just in time for the orderlies to rip open the doors and drag him, screaming, fighting and kicking, into the facility.... He thought of going back there, and gripped the modified baseball bat so hard his knuckles were white.  
Diana had never been to the facility, where her father worked for his infernal master, the Czar of Hell, William Wilson. She has seen photos from Ghost's archives, and done damage to Wilson's minions in many occasions, but here she was walking into the gates of Hell itself. She checked her gun. The safety was off, and nine bullets were in the clip. She checked her hip and the extra clip was there as well. There weren't going to be enough bullets; she figured she'd need nine shots to get through the orderlies and nine bullets to put down Isaac. Even then, she thought it might be too merciful; better to save all 18 for him....  
Cory and Gale kept glancing at each other, their eyes alive with renewed purpose. Although they very well might be dead, especially since they were betraying their former boss full-force; they did not expect any mercy at all from him. But then again, only a fool would expect mercy from William Wilson.... Cory seemed determined, most of all, to set things right. His thoughts were of the moment, and how he would put to right all the wrongs he had committed. Gale caught that he felt that his time was short; and that if they failed, he wouldn't be getting into Heaven.  
Ricky stood in the doorway, anxious. Ghost refused to let him join the group, as Ricky had no combat skills or reason to be there. Subjecting him to the horrors of the facility would not be helpful to both their cause and Ricky's sanity. So Ricky, knowing that his apartment was not entirely safe with KJ kidnapped, was to stay at Gale and Cory's house until further notice. The two lovers bounded towards him, giving him deep kisses and loving hugs. Ricky groaned. It was not fair! He met this awesome couple, open minded and freaky in the bedroom (just as he liked it!) and now they were going away, potentially forever!  
Avery checked himself, for he had little. His pistol and his trusty knife. He wore the rubber form-fitting suit under his clothes like Ghost had said. The thoughts he was feeling.... they spun around and around in his head. He was going back, after all this time. All this time he spent training and preparing himself for this day. He had become a living weapon in his own right. All this time, the thoughts of William and Isaac searching for him, trying to bring him back... he dreaded those moments, and now, ironically, he was going to go to THEM.... on his own free will!  
But he thought of Tyler, the boy -no, the man- with the brightest eyes in the world, with the infectious smile, and tenacious zeal to crack through Avery's shell. The young man who fell in love with his scars and was now suffering and dying at the hands of the exact same man who hurt him years ago... Fate was a cruel and heartless cunt.  
"Heaven help us." He muttered, and strode towards the van. Towards the battle ahead. Towards his lover's freedom.


	17. Homecoming

"Its a trap!"  
-Admiral Ackbar

 

The furies were in an excited mood tonight! The roars and groans from the office of Master Isaac made the orderlies and anyone passing by pause and listen, as the Master Trainer and Master of Masters got into a heated argument about the nature of their work, and how the new boy, Number 77, was able to wreak such horrible havoc, despite being locked in chains and being beaten almost daily. How was it that this smooth-skinned boy was able to hold onto his freedom? That was the question.  
William Wilson slumped in the chair opposite of Isaac, both men's hatred for each other at the apex. William Wilson had deep dark circles beneath his beady dead-grey eyes, while Isaac had nothing left in him but pure rage. The recent troubles had been chipping away at what was left of his soul; now the bones and core of it were exposed to the cold air of the world, and he felt suddenly very alone. Isaac had thrown himself into his work, serving Mr. Wilson obediently for years- nay, decades. He had sacrificed much; his free time, his family, and now his sanity for the sake of this old man.  
"Do I need to replace you?" William asked, a scowl most unholy upon his face.  
"That I do not know." Isaac muttered. "I don't think you realize how much I've lost because of you, William."  
"I know well how much. Your wife and son are dead. And your daughter wants YOU dead. Quite the dynamic you have, Master Isaac." His tone was almost mocking if it weren't so true.  
"Dammit, William." Isaac glared at him. "You don't have a single shred of empathy in you, don't you?"  
William narrowed his own eyes. "Empathy is a farce emotion, one reserved for the weak-minded. I understand human nature, MASTER Isaac. I understand it well; humans are monsters who need to be chained and have their free will crushed by the enlightened few."  
"....How bleak of you." Isaac replied, downing another shot of whiskey.  
"Clearly you can't see the truth." William Wilson shot back, his fingertips touching in thought. "This is why you have failed me, Isaac."  
"Failed you? Bullshit, you miserable old prick!" Isaac huffed. "I've been wielding the whip for you for years.... and now you figure I'm weak because of ONE boy, out of dozens I've broken? Something is VERY DIFFERENT about him.... He's holding onto something; his boyfriend or God or something."  
"God is a figment of the imagination, Isaac. We've discussed this. They made him up thousands of years ago in order to deal with the real world's cruelty. He's a coping mechanism for the ignorant, Isaac. Nothing more!"  
"I don't know... He seems to be working out well for Number 77!" Isaac stammered and downed another shot of whiskey.  
"The boy is badly damaged... he will have to rest up before I work my powers on him." William sighed and rubbed his tired eyes. "But it is late for me, and I must retire for now."  
But then the phone rang.  
Isaac and William stared at it, slightly confused about who it could be. Isaac picked up the phone first. "Hello?"  
"Master Isaac, hello." The voice of Ghost, mechanical, hollow and omniscient like a god-machine, replied. "I wish to speak with William Wilson."  
"Who is calling, if I may ask."  
"It's me, Isaac. Master Darren Monroe." Ghost said as if it were a quip about the weather. Isaac's eyes bulged from his half-drunken head, granting him a sudden surge of sobriety and a bit of fear. William cocked and eyebrow. Ghost chuckled "Let me speak to William. We have words."  
"Funny, you have nothing to say to me?"  
"Put me on speaker, then, if you wish to keep talking. Otherwise hand the phone over to William, if that is indeed him sitting at your desk." Isaac's eyes went wide, and he reached into his desk and pulled out his pistol, a massive gun if there ever was one.  
"What-" William choked.  
BAM!  
The security camera went dead. And William clutched his chest. "WHAT THE FLYING FUCK WAS THAT ABOUT?!!!"  
Isaac handed William the phone. "Darren."  
William insanely grabbed at the phone, almost dropping it several times. "Darren Monroe?!"  
"Yes William, it is I." Ghost spoke.  
"You... so you're not so dead after all. I'm rather pleased." William smiled.  
"You were always a master of lies, William. Don't play coy with me; I know your tricks intimately. Speak plainly, for I will speak plainly as well."  
"I see you still have your sense of chivalry, Darren. Good to know." William smirked. "So what is it you're calling about? You aren't the type to just say hello."  
"Tonight we will dine with the Devil, William. Or more specifically, YOU will once I've slit your belly and let your guts fall out."  
"That's funny, Darren. It really is. You couldn't lift a knife long enough to not have a heart attack. You really should just give up and come back, Darren. Don't fight me, JOIN me! This business is just not the same without you."  
"That's a statement most ironic, William." Ghost chuckled. "Considering when you 'fired' me, you quite literally did so. I cannot simply let that slide. I want your blood, William."  
"You're bringing Number 19, aren't you?" William replied.  
"Oh yes. He and I will be arriving shortly. He is my champion, William. He's killed Venus and Cyrus. And he will kill Isaac just as I am to kill you."  
"You don't have the guts, Darren. You always were the coward.... the coward and the fool!"  
"Ha! I may be a fool, but I am a wise fool. I will see you soon, Darren. Oh, and one more thing; tell Isaac that his shooting the camera was cute. But I can still see you both, every blemish and wrinkle and all." Click. The phone went dead.   
William Wilson, eyes ablaze with infernal flame, smiled his predator toothy grin at Master Isaac. "We're going to war, Isaac. Assemble the men." Oh what a glorious defeat for Darren it was going to be! Finally to be rid of the two biggest thorns in his side! Number 19 in his clutches along with his lover, Number 77. And Darren finally on the wrack suffering alongside his apprentice-slave.... oh it was going to be glorious!  
"Why... why would he call ahead?" Isaac pondered. But William Wilson was already out the door, calling on the orderlies to grab weapons and prepare for a possible strike! He saw only glory and the chance to torture his arch enemy to death! Oh what a glorious victory it would be!

***

The van slid down the soaking wet road smoothly, with Cory at the wheel, and Gale in the passenger seat.  
"Oh shit." Gale suddenly muttered.  
"What?" Cory asked.  
"We need to get a pic of the guy we just picked up." Gale reminded him. It was the rules; the two of them would send a picture of the guy they had just kidnapped for the trainers to look at. If it was accepted, they would have a pick-up team ready once the van was in the warehouse.  
"Shit, you're right. Um... who do we use?" Cory asked, and they pulled over onto the side of the road. Gale hopped out quickly and went around back, opening up the door to a well-armed squadron of freedom fighters. He grinned nervously.  
"We have a small hitch. We need to send in a pic of a potential slave for this to be convincing. Um, Carter... I hate to ask...."  
"They've seen my face before." Carter replied.  
"But Avery is -no offense, sir- too old! And Diana is too well known and a woman. This warehouse doesn't deal in women." Gale stammered. "Please?"  
Avery patted Carter's shoulder. "Gale, tell them you've recaptured a runaway. I'm sure they'll be really excited for that."  
"Okay... um, how do we make it convincing?"  
"Got any duct tape?" Diana asked.  
"Yeah in the box right beside you.... should I ask?"  
"No." Diana fished it out. "Just let me do my work." Carter grinned as she tore off a strip.  
"I love the way your mind wor- mmh!" He smiled like a goofy dork as she slapped the tape on. She then pushed him to the floor and had him lay his head on the floor.  
"Okay Gale, get a pic of his face. Carter, look like you're knocked out."  
"Mmmhmm!" Carter smiled through the tape as she held him down.

***

"Here we are." Cory told everyone in the back. "Hell."  
Avery, Diana and Carter put on their headsets, small gifts from Ghost that he salvaged so that they could remain in communication. Ghost was away at one of his hidden terminals, and would be the all-seeing eye that would direct them. The devices were small, black and securely strapped to the ear. There were none for Cory and Gale, as Ghost had no initially counted them into his plan long ago.  
The compound where the facility was located was a collection of warehouses, actually. Each of them kept the true prison hidden and concealed. There was no color hear- only drab gray and nighttime black. The air here was deathly still and silent- no birds, no bugs, no breath of life. The overcast skies were dark, and a dribble of drizzle was beginning to fall. A familiar sense of dread fell across Avery; this was his homecoming, but the Beast in his own heart grew thirsty for blood. Those walls, so evilly washed white and cleaned of their sins daily, were going to have a fresh coating of blood today....  
Carter gulped and gripped Diana's hand. Here was the worst Hell he'd ever experienced in his short life. Here memories of how violated and helpless he felt welled to the surface once more, and the Beast in his own heart grew furious, merciless and vengeful. He swore to himself that he would not be taken alive, and that anyone who tried would meet a bitter, bloody end.  
Diana reached deep into her soul for a calm island of serenity. The chaos of emotions she felt was troubling; here she was, in her father's macabre workshop of cruelty and human suffering... she had lost her brother here to the soul-destroying facility.... she burned inside, wanting to put a bullet or eighteen in her dad's black heart.  
The hollow mechanical machine of Ghost spoke on their bluetooths. "Stay together if you can, but we may have to split up. Diana and Carter, I need you two to secure the tranq guns first..... shit."  
"What?" Diana asked.  
"I count only three of them in the room. Beware, one of them is loose."  
"Shit." Diana cursed. Carter frowned. Avery scowled.  
"Diana and Carter will secure the guns; Avery I want you, Cory and Gale to locate KJ. He'll be itching to help, I know he will. He doesn't need a weapon, either- he's very deadly with his own fists."  
"Right." Avery acknowledged.  
"There's a spare set of clothes for him in the bag. Be sure to give them to him- much as he would love to kick ass naked, he'll need protection." Diana giggled as Ghost said that. She knew KJ well enough and he WOULD run screaming stark naked into the line for fire for his Master.  
"Certainly. And Tyler, is he okay?"  
"One more thing- there is a small skinny slave boy with glasses. His name is Ryan. If you see him, call his name; he is on our side. Do not shoot him! He's quite affectionate with both Tyler and KJ. He will help you all out, I promise."  
"That will be good. I haven't been back in forever, so having someone with a lay of the land should make things easier." Avery thought aloud. They all nodded as the van rounded the corner for the true prison. It gaped before them like a black fortress, although it was white-washed silver....

***

Ryan was on the move. William Wilson had rallied the orderlies, arming them with batons, prods, tazers, stun guns and the like; the invaders were to be taken alive if possible for Mr. Wilson's amusement. Ryan wasn't going to take this shit anymore. The thought of Avery, Tyler's beloved, coming possibly to save him stirred him to full rebellion. The death of Aaron, so soulless and numb he felt the need to end his life, had confirmed that this was no longer a place of security. It was a place of suffering and death. To be human was to die here, and Ryan was going to get out, even if he died in the process.  
He had a paperclip, and made his way to the storage room where the guns were stored. This little act, he felt, was going to be his catalyst; his statement. He wasn't going to watch and be obedient anymore. It felt GOOD to be rebelling, he found. Especially against Master Isaac and Master Wilson. He took the padlock on the door, shoving the paperclip in there; he'd done this a couple times before, and expertly maneuvered the clip so that it jammed in the gears permanently. He wasn't trying to unlock it; he wanted the opposite. Whoever wanted to grab the supplies and the guns was going to be in for an unpleasant surprise. The clip was in deep- there was no way to pull it out without destroying the lock. He grinned, glancing around warily before he skipped-ran-walked away. ("Suck it, SIR!") He thought as he made his way back.

***

"Remember this, my friends and warriors." Ghost spoke. "Although they are men in this warehouse, some with families and friends; you may feel remorse about ending their lives."  
"Hardly." Diana replied coldly, checking her gun.  
"Remember; the slaves here ALSO have families and friends who don't know of their whereabouts. Along with the countless boys and young men who came before them; the orderlies who police this place CHOSE to work here, they CHOSE to obey William Wilson, and they CHOSE to abuse and imprison these boys."  
No one said anything. Avery saw what Ghost was trying to do... justifying the killing to come. Avery had his own plan for that, should it come down to it, but he knew that the orderlies would resist and fight, and he wasn't going to let anyone be taken. He gripped his trusty knife, for reassurance.  
"And be warned. William is clever. He will likely have traps and ambushes waiting for you. Yet, he is also an arrogant prick, who will want to keep you alive for torture later. The orderlies will more likely try to subdue than kill; this will be to our advantage, but I do not know how long it will last, so stay alert and focused."  
The van pulled up the steep ramp and fell down into the dark abyss. The garage-like doorway opened it's black maw, allowing them in. Cory and Gale held hands as the former drove the vehicle down into the depths. The vehicle slide into it's parking space, finding it close to where a black mercedes benz was parked. Diana would have recognized the car easily, were she able to see it.  
Cory glanced back, nodded and got out of the car, along with Gale and Avery. Avery strode alongside them, keeping his thoughts calm as his fingers itched for his gun. Luckily, the orderly on duty was a semi-friend to Gale.  
"Marcus! Hey, how's it going."  
"Oh it's going." The orderly had dark features and a prominent nose. He was also a big guy, built almost like a football player. He had been on boring security detail for today. "So new boy, huh?"  
"Yep. Courtesy of our new friend here."  
Marcus noticed Avery finally and jumped. "Jesus Christ, dude!"  
"Sorry." Avery smirked. "I have that effect on people."  
"Holy shit, I can see why they keep you around. Must be freaky good at hiding."  
"I am very good." Avery replied with no emotion. Marcus dialed a number, and asked for a pick-up team to come down. The service elevator hummed to life, and from it emerged a whopping four giant linebacker orderlies, one with a gurney, and three with chains, just in case they had to drag the boy back. Avery hoped to God those two were ready. This might get ugly.  
The orderlies arrived at the back of the van, and one of them looked up. "He conscious?"  
"Should still be asleep." Cory replied. "We got him good!" The joke made him feel sick.  
"Sweet. Easy money." The orderly threw open the door, only to meet the silencer of Diana's gun. BPEW! "Huc..." He fell to the floor.  
"The fuck!" The others screamed.  
BPEW! BPEW! BPEW! BPEW! BPEW!  
Marcus jumped up and strained to look out of his booth. But like a whirlwind, Avery whipped out of his own gun, and Marcus saw the flash of metallic silver as a bullet entered his face.  
"Fuck!" Gale tore his gaze away before he could lose his breakfast. To kill the others.... but to kill Marcus.... it suddenly dawned on Gale how much this ordeal was gonna suck. Cory held him tightly. Avery stared at the man he had just finished off... Marcus held onto that gaze of terror, and he probably would hold that gaze for all eternity.  
Diana and Carter emerged from the van, checking the pulses of the orderlies.  
"Uh, Ghost? Did they see all that?" Diana asked into her comlink.  
"No. I have it flickering out in random locations. The storm is giving me good cover, I might add." The mechanical man spoke. "They should be very occupied. I would hide the bodies or shoot the camera."  
Avery looked around, and seeing the camera, he aimed his pistol with two hands, and fired a single shot. It destroyed the machine quickly, as if it may have been made of butter, not metal, and sent the husk of it -what was left after the fragments scattered- falling onto the cold cement. Soon, the five companions were joined together. Gale composed himself, because there was still work to be done. Cory gripped his knife, trying to gain some courage. Carter and Diana stared at them.  
"You ever killed a man before?" Carter asked, coldly, one would note.  
"No." They both said.  
"It never gets easy." Diana replied. "But in this place, we have no choice."  
"Right." Cory responded. "Gale, stay behind me. I don't want you getting hurt."  
"I'm not fragile, Cory." Gale protested. "It's just... Marcus... he's gone now."  
"I hate to ruin this moment, but we're losing time here." Avery replied, glancing at the service elevator. "We need to get going."  
"Right." Everyone acknowledged, their weapons at the ready. Carter had his reinforced bat, Cory his knife and hatchet, Diana her pistol, along with a small ice pick tucked into her belt. Gale wielded a tonfa, similar to a police baton, while Avery kept his gun sheathed, along with his trusty knife. He felt weirdly confident and calm, for this evil place was familiar to him.  
They boarded the elevator, riding it skyward to the level above. Strange as it sounded, the parking lot was the lowest level of this hell, along with three stories of suffering. The top level was the administration offices and a living spaces for orderlies and administration. The next two levels were cells and torture chambers, meant to break the boys of their free will and make them submit fully. When the elevator doors opened, the came onto a long dark hallway. The light was dim, and flickering. Avery couldn't help but feel like this was a trap- a lethal trap set by a clever mastermind.  
"Wilson is leading us in." He whispered. "Be alert like you've never been before."  
The other four nodded and followed him in, very slowly, their eyes adjusting to the shadowy gloom. They were adventurers now; deep in the hidden dungeon where the demons lived. Here they would come, on a quest seeking a treasure they desperately needed. They would face numerous opponents and have to fight them all to the death; or if they were lucky, they would flee and surrender....  
"Keep going forward, all of you." Ghost's voice made everyone jump out of their flesh.  
"Dammit Ghost." Avery muttered.  
"My apologies. Keep going forward, there is a three-way fork in the next hallway. There you will have to split up, but I can't see anything in there; the lights are out. Be cautious."  
"This keeps getting better and better." Carter snarked. But they kept going forward, cautious and walking slowly, each step sure before them. Finally, Avery noticed that the chamber at the end of the hall grew bigger, with a wide circular area. He assumed in the darkness, that the halls branched out from this room. Jesus, it was dark! And this room was very quiet...  
FLASH!  
Avery reached for his knife as the lights came to sudden life! A grinding sound was heard behind them, and Diana, being inches from the bars shooting out of the celling in the hallway entrance, was almost impaled and she shrieked.  
"Di!" Carter exclaimed.  
"I'm fine..." She huffed in scared relief.  
"Ghost?" Avery said into his bluetooth.  
"Hmm." Ghost's mechanical voice hummed. "William is more clever than I thought."  
"Not reassuring, Ghost!"  
Then the real threat appeared, with a horde of guys armed with batons, prods, tazers, stun guns, a few had staffs, and all of them were hollering, hooting, and spouting threats at them, but they kept their distance in a semi-circle, looking menacing as hell. Avery felt like there must have been at least thirty or more of them... they were so outnumbered it wasn't even funny.... and all the exits were blocked off. They were on Death Ground.....  
And in the back, standing at the top of the stairs leading to the central hallway, grinning like a warlord overlooking a prosperous, ill-defended village, with beady grey eyes that reflected only malice and inhumanity, was an old wretch of a human being, triumphant in his trap. He cackled and chuckled, but it was never to be confused with one that a decent human being would do.  
"Ah.... welcome back, Number 65, and I see you brought some friends...."


	18. Freedom Fighters

"I am the Flail of God. If you had not committed such great sins, God would not have sent a punishment like me upon you."  
-Genghis Khan

 

"William Wilson." Avery growled.  
William Wilson stepped down the stairs slowly, a small man among giants, armed and ready to pounce upon his order. He grinned and giggled wickedly at the five companions before him, his fingertips in contact with each other as he began plotting all the ways he was going to violate them- and some he was going to have to kill. Like the infected pair and Diana.  
"I welcome all of you to my fine facility! Welcome back, Cory, Gale and Number 65. I see you have.... developed a taste for this place, no?" The old man giggled. Carter smiled, for it was the only polite way for one to bare one's teeth, and growled at the man.  
"And Lady Diana Milton! So long has it been! I haven't seen you since you were a small girl! Tell me, how's your mother?"  
"She's dead, William. No thanks to you." Diana narrowed her eyes. She was about to go into Huntress from Hell mode on these guys.... Avery could sense it in her aura. "And I know Aaron is dead as well. Don't play dumbass with me."  
William chuckled. "Yes, it was a sad loss that Number 67 is no longer with us. Your father had him so well trained! Oh you would be proud."  
"Pardon my French, Sir Wilson, but fuck off and die." Diana held her head high and said it with perfect composure. Even the orderlies, who were one hundred percent confident of victory, soon began to shake a little. The old man chuckled once more, moving his eyes to Cory and Gale. "And you two.... this is a betrayal MOST foul. You know what happens to traitors."  
"Of course, Sir." Cory smiled. "I hope to spill my infected blood all over the place; you won't be able to set foot in here again without SMELLING my infection, SIR." The old man recoiled, his nose and lip curled up in a snarl.  
"And I'm through with you!" Gale chimed in. "We're gonna put you down!"  
"Unlikely." The snarling old demon turned, finally, to Avery, who betrayed no emotion and had his eyes drilled on him the entire time. "And you... I do not believe we have met, good sir."  
Avery smirked, and stepped forward. "William Wilson, it was a long, long time ago when I met you. Back then, you knew me as Terry Blair."  
William's eyes bugged out of his head in excitement. He strained, and lost his cool completely, a line of dribbling drool dripping from the edge of his lip. He scrambled ahead of his orderlies, who tried to hold him back, but he calmed himself, not daring to get too close. "Are you... Number 19?! Number 19 at last!"  
Avery took off his scarf, letting it drop to the floor, and undid his button-up shirt. To everyone's shock, they saw that he wasn't wearing the shirt portion of his rubber armor! Avery pulled back the shirt to reveal his number, scarred onto his breast so many years ago. The orderlies gasped, and William Wilson went giddily with vigor and crazy with ecstasy! "IT IS YOU!" William gaped. "Oh! How long I have waited for this moment!"  
"Oh, and by the way, I will not submit." Avery responded.  
"No, I did not think you would." William Wilson smiled. "Neither would your boyfriend. But I think I know how to get the two of you to finally see the light, hahahahahahaaa!"  
"William Wilson." Avery said in a commanding, warlord-like voice that resounded around the chamber. It caused everyone to stop and listen. "My name is Avery Arthur Jones." He paused, looking around at the orderlies. "And I am here to take back what you've stolen from me. If any of you do not wish to fight, lay down your weapons and surrender. Because, I promise, every single one of you, if you choose to resist, is going to go down to Hell in a storm of ribbons of blood!"  
The orderlies paused, but William Wilson was furious and shocked and in awe.... HOW DARE this man command HIS troops! William, flustered, ran back to his men, shouting orders. "Kill them all! Kill them all! Kill them all!"  
The orderlies charged. Avery swung out his pistol and in a lightning draw triggered his Beretta to open up with a volley of shots; the silencer was gone and the gun shot so naturally now, it's explosions not contained to a mere whisper, but a shout. Carter, Gale and Cory shook as the foundations of the chamber shook as well; the sound of the gun was nothing like in the movies! This time, it was like a cannon was going off!  
Diana flourished her gun as well, shooting at the charging orderlies, and as they fell, they began to fly back, retreating. William Wilson scrambled up the stairs as Diana took aim, only to find her clip empty... CLICK CLICK CLICKCLICKCLICK  
"MOTHERFUCKER!" She bellowed and quickly reloaded the clip.  
Avery shot just about everything that came at him, and when his gun clicked empty, he flipped it around with mongoose-like agility, and CHUCKED the damn thing at an orderly's nose, breaking it wide open in a screaming fit! Avery then drew his trusty knife, blocking the baton with his free hand; his Krav Maga training coming into play and his muscles remembering exactly what to do while his mind focused on his enemies.  
SHING SHING SHING! When the metal of the knife as it sliced through the flesh of a man's chest and throat, he fell from the shock alone. Avery whipped his hand around, severing the windpipe of another man coming around him.  
"HHHAAAUUU!"  
Carter jumped up and charged, swinging his bat down upon the exposed head of an orderly, and there was a satisfying CRACK! As his skull imploded. One man aimed a stun gun at him, only to have Diana BANG! put a bullet between his eyes. Gale grabbed a staff off of one of the fallen, swinging it around like an expert. Cory glanced at his lover, who suddenly went into kickass mode with no warning! It was surprising and very hot! Cory swung his hatchet, catching a man in the stomach, but taking a blow as he did so. He left the axe in the orderly, who fell over and began to cough up his red fluid in death throes. He drew his knife, slashing wildly.  
Avery saw a man aim a stun gun at him as well, so he promptly threw his knife at the man, who took it in the thigh and screamed, falling over. Avery slammed his elbow into another attacker, twisting the man's arm around before it broke with cruel snap. He gripped the man by the head and twisted it into death with ease! He then did a twist on another man's arm, busting his wrist and taking his baton and proceeding to bash him in the nose and eyes repeatedly.  
Carter swung at one of the orderly's shoulders, smashing it with a SNAP! and kicking the man. He felt a bolt from a stun gun, but the rubber suit held! Holy shit it held! He felt nothing as Diana aimed and shot the man in the chest. Gale swung his staff at the legs of his attackers, and held off a baton while Cory slid a knife in the back of one about to flank his lover. The man choked up blood as Cory cruelly tore it out on the side. It was a lucky strike!  
Avery turned to see a stun gun fire at him, and it hit him in the stomach, sending bolts of electricity flying through him. He managed to fall to his knees and brace himself, only to terrify the living fuck out of his opponent as he proceeded to grip the electrical cord and RIP THE DAMN THING OUT OF HIS STOMACH..... a look of fury on his face! A roar in his throat! Adrenaline empowering legs to stand once more! The gunner fled, running as fast as his legs could take him.... Avery took out his rage on another man, slamming his fist into his crotch before rising and knocking him down. A well-placed boot stomp to the throat ended his life immediately.  
Diana fired more shots, no longer caring who had a stun gun or not. Men died, screaming for their Mommies and cursing the five companions to Hell. Carter swung a wide arc and knocked a guy down, stomping and beating him as he lay helpless on the ground.  
Avery found Cory's axe in an orderly, who was somehow still alive, and tore it out him, a flood of blood ending his tortured last minutes almost then and there! Avery brained a man who dared to try and taze him, and left the axe in his head before wrapping his leg around another attacker, sending him down and proceeding to beat the fucking shit out of his head!  
Diana ran out of bullets, chucking her gun at a man flanking Carter. It hit him in the back and he screamed. He screamed even louder as Diana's ice pick punctured one of his lungs. She ripped it out and swung again, but he was in shock and she easily finished him off.  
Avery flipped a man over, sending him landing on the pavement on his head, and stunning him, giving Avery enough time to finish off his attacker. Avery swung his fists at the man, who pulled out a knife and attempted to overhead stab him, but Avery blocked it at the elbow, and tore the weapon out of his grip with a twist before SHING SHING -ing his throat into bloody pieces. He ran at a man with a tazer, who struck him at the same time Avery stabbed the knife into the jugular side of his throat. Both went down in a heap of rage and death, but only Avery rose once more, like a blood-soaked Messiah.  
Cory bulldozed a man in the stomach, lifting him up and slamming him back down on his tailbone before smashing him in the chest. A deft kick left him out cold. A knifer attacked Avery, who slit the man's throat in a viperstrike and took his own weapon, throwing them both at a pair of men attacking Diana. One got hit in the hip and a river of red stuff poured. The second took it to the back of his knee and Diana finished him off with a thrust to the eye with her pick. She squealed as the fluids squirted, almost hitting her pants.  
Gale glanced back, towards man on the stairs with a rifle. He saw the gun aimed at Avery, and quickly threw himself into Avery's path.... as the gun exploded, and Gale felt an immensely sharp pain in his chest. He glanced down and saw a large red dart there.... He was suddenly shocked by this, and how much it DIDN'T hurt... and fell to the floor.  
Carter charged up the stairs, LEAPING four of five at a time before he swung at the man. The rifle butt hit him in the brow, sending him stumbling down, before the rifleman felt a knife enter his achilles tendon as he tried to run. He fell to the floor, screaming as Avery came up behind him, yanking the knife of his leg, grabbing him by the hair, and slitting his throat as if he was a filthy slaughter hog!  
He turned to run back down the stairs, taking Carter with him, Diana had been hit hard and lost her ice pick as the remaining orderlies beat her down. She shielded her head with her arms before the three men came charging at her, Cory kicking the bastard in the tailbone and slamming his face into the cement. Avery SHING SHING SHING -ed the man in the lower back, with blood from his broken kidneys falling like rain. Carter had to slam the bat down once. Once. And the man fell to death.  
Avery finally breathed deep, seeing Gale get sleepy, and Cory holding him, hysterical and begging Diana to do something! Avery took the rifle with him, downstairs to the carnage below. The floor was barely visible, and the dead eyes of the men who had tried to enslave them all lay on it, either dead or on their way to the grave. Diana was breathing hard, while Carter came down, a cut on his scalp above his eyebrow, with a curtain of blood falling down his face. Avery looked around, searching for his trusty knife. Diana pulled out her medical kit from her bag, patching up Carter as best she could.

***

The voice of Ghost could be heard on Avery's bluetooth. "Good GOD... it was better than I could have hoped."  
"Ghost.... what the FUCK was that? William knew we were coming!!!"  
"Yes. It was my plan." Ghost replied. "and you did not wear your armor!"  
"I had my own plan, you fucking prick. Now where are the guns, KJ and Tyler! I've had enough of this shit!" Avery was fuming, and he felt somehow hollow, as if his soul had been sent through a paper shredder. He did not feel like himself after seeing all the bodies he and his companions had caused.  
"You'll have to split up. KJ and the tranq guns are in opposite directions." Ghost said. "Also, I have my own agents on the way. They will secure all the doors. William and Isaac will have no escape. They should be barring the doors right now."  
"And you're not going to send them inside?"  
"No. They are.... not quite as skilled as the five of you.... holy shit."  
"We can't leave Gale. He got hit with a dart."  
"I'll carry him." Cory volunteered. "He's a lightweight, don't worry."  
Gale's eyes fluttered once more before they faded into the darkness of drugged sleep.

***

"Sir!" One of the orderlies yelled for William Wilson, who was escaping to Isaac's office.  
"What, you fool?!"  
"The exits have been sealed! Somebody on the outside has us trapped in here!"  
William cursed and pounded the desk with his fist. "DARREN! Fucker! He is responsible for this! I'm calling for a chopper. Get down there and see if the men did their job right! And kill them all!"  
"Uh... yes sir." The orderly turned and went off. William didn't care what direction. He instead turned to the phone, calling up the helicopter which he used in emergencies. The pilot was not amused. Not amused at all.  
"Sir, it's storming out there! Weatherman says thunder and lightning!"  
"This is an emergency, you stupid fool! I have crazed killers in my facility and they've sealed off my exits. I NEED an airlift, pronto! That is an order, my good sir!" William fumed. How hard was it to find obedient employees these days?  
"Right... I'll be there as soon as possible, sir."  
"Make it fast!!" The old demon snapped, slamming the phone back into it's holster. Now he had to run for it.... but wait! He forgot his favorite new toy... he would need to go down lower and grab Number 77, he knew. The old man cursed his bad luck, and cursed Darren Monroe for destroying his facility! He ran like a demon in the darkness, determined to get back his treasure!


	19. Freed Man's Fury

"There's two things I got a right to, and these are Death and Liberty. One or the other I mean to have."  
-Harriet Tubman

 

"We're splitting up." Avery commanded. "Cory grab Gale and come with me. Diana, Carter, find KJ."  
"I'm just gonna slow you down!" Cory protested. "Take Carter or Diana!"  
"Nah, you're safe with me." Avery smirked. "I'm going to find Tyler. I could use some help."  
"Alright, if you insist." Cory hefted Gale onto his back, almost piggy-back style. Somehow Avery's words rang true, the way he suddenly went berserk with all of their attackers. Many of them had fled, but the area was a royal mess regardless. It was hard to believe that he had contributed to this; it was almost as if Avery had been training his entire life for this moment.  
"Alright." Diana confirmed. "Carter, we're going down the right hall. Avery, Tyler and the other cells should be on the left." She nodded at Avery. "You sure you're gonna be okay?"  
"I know I will." Avery replied. "This place will fall, Diana. I'm done hiding."  
She smiled and a saluted him. "Angels at your back, sir."  
"Angels at your backs as well." Avery nodded. He and Cory trodded down the hall to the left, while Diana and Carter went their separate way, in search of KJ.

***

"Are you terrified yet, William Wilson?" Ghost taunted over the loudspeaker system. William snarled at it, as if just hearing the voice of his arch-nemesis hurt him. Everywhere he went, the voice of Ghost haunted his steps, taunting and teasing him.  
"That was impressive, sending the bulk of your orderlies against Avery! How could you have known he would slaughter them all? Your men haven't face any real opponents, ever, William. They are weak and soft."  
"Shut up!" William shrieked. "I will find you and kill you myself, Darren!"  
"Come and get me. I'm wwwwwaaaaiiiiitttttinnngggg...." He fell into dark mechanical laughter.

***

"There they are!" Six orderlies, armed with batons, tazers and a stun gun for one of them ran at the pair. Diana raised her ice pick, screaming like a banshee and running at them as well. Carter spoke not a word, uttered not a sound, but swung at the face of an orderly, who attempted to block but was bowled over by his awesome rage-fueled strength.  
Diana's ice pick slid through an orderly's ribs as he stabbed at her with a tazer, her rubber suit deflecting the lightning harmlessly as she kicked her pick free. Two men grabbed her arms, wrestling her to the ground. Carter elbowed one in the face and kicked him down while swinging wildly at another. Diana's ice pick fell free as the men assaulted her with their fists, and she screamed and thrashed.  
Carter THREW his bat at the man backing away, smacking his forearms hard and possibly breaking one of them, while picking up Diana's fallen weapon, screaming "GET OFF HER!" and stabbing one of her attackers through the back of the skull. He pulled the lifeless man off of her, grabbing the second one and tearing him off her, flinging him a couple feet away. Carter turned just in time to see his own bat swing wide (because he was using just one hand) and smack him in the ribs, sending him down. Diana reached for her gun and BAM! Shot the man dead.  
The final man fled, running as fast as he could and away from the two invaders. Diana had a puffy eye, a busted lip, and was holding her side.  
"You okay?" Carter rubbed his diaphragm and chest. That thing HURT like hell when it landed, he realized, hefting his bat.  
"Nothing a hot bath and a cold beer won't cure." She wiggled and stretched her back, trying get the knots out. "Oww."  
"Agreed. I say we just stay in bed for a week once this is over."  
"That sounds AMAZING right now...." She replied. She checked her gun, and her comlink, finding them remarkably in good condition. Carter handed her the ice pick, and she shook the loose blood off of it. "God this is fucked up."  
"You knew it was coming." Carter said. "William Wilson and his minions have to die. There's no other way around it."  
"Prison." She smiled.  
"Soft and cushy with three meals a day and a chance at parol. Assuming he hasn't hired the best lawyers to get him out of jail." Carter explained. "Better he suck the Devil's cock in Hell." Diana laughed at the wicked thoughts her lover put into her mind. It was true; she did want to finish him off once and for all. The world would be a much better place.  
"You are getting close!" Ghost spoke over the com.  
"Good. Which room?"  
"Should be the next five down." He replied. Diana nodded and the two went running down the halls. They came across reinforcements, however, and Diana halted, drawing her pistol quickly. "BACK AWAY NOW IF YOU WANNA LIVE!!!" The Valkyrie boomed.  
The men scrambled over each other as they fled behind cover.  
"Code now!" Carter commanded.  
"0423." Ghost said.  
"Thanks!" And the locks opened up, with the three of them heading into the chamber. Once inside, Diana covered the door, handing off the bag with the clothes to Carter. She aimed her gun at the door, not wavering.  
KJ stirred to wakefulness, still strapped to the table, and with a plug gag shoved in his mouth. "MMMH!!!" He cried with excitement as Carter showed up and began to work on getting him loose. He tried for the cuffs, but then courtesy was remembered and he pulled the gag out of KJ's mouth. KJ licked his lips and tried to wet them, glancing up at the pair.  
"Carter! Diana! So awesome to see you!" His sincerity was genuine. "How goes the fight?"  
"Avery... is terrifying." Carter remarked.  
"As I knew he'd be!" KJ beamed with pride. "Master chose his champion well."  
As the wrist cuffs came off, KJ flexed and immediately got to work on the cuffs on his feet, undoing them with ease. Carter handed KJ the clothes, which consisted of just his rubber underarmor and a pair of thick padded gloves. KJ nodded and got himself dressed, expertly slipping into the pants, which were a snug fit but still flexible. Diana noticed that he seemed to be warming up, walking on the balls of his feet and bouncing as the rubber long-sleeved top slid over his muscular frame. The kickboxing gloves went on quickly with the strap tightened, and for a guy who'd been strapped to the wrack, KJ's morale remained very high.  
"Ready?" KJ asked.  
"Water?" Carter offered a small bottle from the bag. KJ gulped a mouthful down, handing it back.  
"Thank you. Now let's go kick some ass!" KJ demanded, ready to rush out of the door.  
"Are we clear?" Diana asked her comlink.  
"Orderlies coming up shortly. Be quick!"  
"How many?" Carter asked.  
"I could ten." Ghost replied.  
Carter looked to KJ. "Ten goons, you can handle that?"  
"LET ME AT THEM!" KJ rushed the door, flinging it open, sliding out into the hallway, seeing the men before him, armed with various tools of their evil trade. "HA!" He screamed defiantly, with Carter and Diana close behind him. The black-clad dark haired boy with the brilliant green eyes had suddenly shifted into warrior mode!  
The men were shocked at KJ's speed! He bounded into the crowd like a human tornado and punched at throats and kicked the baton out of one man's hand, while three of them fired their stun guns, hitting KJ in the torso- yet the armor held! He twisted his torso almost unnaturally and flung the guns out of their hands, leaving them defenseless.  
Diana drew her pick and waded into the melee, along with Carter and his Bat-Mace of heavy death. KJ's heel met the chest of one orderly, bowling him over along with his companions behind him, and he grabbed a baton, swinging it like a madman!! The impact left one orderly with a busted shoulder as KJ turned to face-smash his friend!  
"HA!" He roared in predatory triumph!  
Diana swung her weapon, having it deflected but distracting the man long enough to twist and thrust her foot into his balls. Carter swung a side-arc and smashed a man across the cheek, the sheer force of the blow knocking him out cold....  
KJ managed to grappled one man, snapping his neck into lifelessness with ease as the last two fled for their lives! "RRRRRAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!" KJ, now a psychotic murder-beast in human form, bellowed. "ARE YOU PROUD OF ME, MASTER?!!!"  
Ghost paused for a long time and then spoke on Diana's comlink. "Holy fuck.... what I have created?" KJ armed himself with two of the fallen men's batons and snorted, a look on his face that showed that he was enjoying himself. Diana, noticed something even more disturbing.... he was hard as a brick underneath that suit, it's tightness barely concealing it from the world (KJ being well endowed didn't help much either).  
KJ turned back to them, his eyes betraying how bat-shit crazy-happy he was. "What are you two waiting for?! Let's go! Let's go! Let's go!"

***

Isaac and four orderlies were on the hunt. He had sobered up, slightly, and lead them like an angry Hun Lord; Isaac wanted blood and secretly hoped that they would kill his Master..... but these were very wishful thoughts.  
He could not remember the facility EVER being assaulted from the outside. The slaves had tried to escape multiple times, but to come in and just slaughter everyone was a totally different thing. One that William Wilson had no planned for. And whoever these people were.... Isaac was not so sure he wanted to meet them face-to-face.  
Yet he could not help it, with his men actively looking for trouble. And he found it.  
There were three of them, two he recognized. One was the infected Snatcher boy, Cory, holding up his lover on his shoulders. He must have been knocked out, for there was no blood or major signs of a struggle on him. Cory looked ragged but still intact.  
The second man, though.... he did not recognize, but he felt a surge of familiarity. As if they had met before. The cold bloodthirsty eyes met his own, and he returned them, for this man was challenging him. And he did not like to be challenged in his own territory.  
"Halt." He commanded his men, and they stayed at the ready, but did not advance.  
"Hello, Isaac." The man spoke, his voice composed and defiant. And familiar....  
"You.... Holy shit." Isaac's own oculars bulged. "Terry Blair?"  
Avery chuckled. "Terry is dead, Isaac. You can call me Avery Jones, however."  
"....I don't believe it." Isaac stammered.  
Avery pulled aside his shirt, revealing the Nineteen-shaped scar on his breast, exposed for all the world to finally see the Mark of the Master. Isaac suddenly lost the breath in his lungs, unable to fully compose himself. "...Well, welcome back." Isaac spoke finally, the lump in his throat clearing. "Not often we get slaves who return! Did your master keep the receipt?" Him and his orderlies chuckled.  
"Don't play dumb with me, Isaac." Avery said with zero emotion on his face. A small half-smile did take shape, however. "You KNOW why I'm here."  
"Yes, to murder me for destroying your childhood. Grow the fuck up." Isaac scolded. "The world sucks and then you die."  
Avery locked his eyes on him, and did not blink. "You took the light from my kingdom. You tortured him, and tried to make him submit to your will. You stole the last good thing I had. You've taken my family, my security, and many restful nights from me, Isaac. You've scarred me and so many others. I'm here to make you answer for your crimes, and Heaven help me, Isaac. I'm sending you to Hell."  
"You don't have the guts, fuckbag." Isaac challenged.  
Avery drew his trusty knife. "Challenge accepted."


	20. Damned To Darkness

"I have been so long master that I would be master still, or at least none other would be master of me."  
-Bram Stoker's Dracula

 

William Wilson, in a fearful fury, flew down the corridor like a howling spirit, yelling at anyone he saw to go find the five companions and kill them! For, indeed, how hard could it possibly be? They'd run out of bullets eventually and their arms would get tired of attacking ! He instead went down below to fetch his prize; the boy with the undying fire in his soul. The helicopter was on the way; but he could not leave without the fire -oh that FIRE!- that Number 77 possessed.  
He strode into the chamber of horrors that was the Confessor, where the most defiant were always broken... except for this one. With the broken tub full of ice water and the torturous tools aplenty, it was now freshly adorned with the blood of the boy unbroken, who slept on a bloody mattress off to the side opposite of the tub. Bandages covered him, along with dried scabs from the caress of the Hell-borne weapon Torquemada. Amazingly, William found it on the table, coiled up like the great serpent it was. He held it in his ancient fingers, and felt the dark power of it fill his soul once more. It had been decades since him and Torquemada were reunited....., it felt so wickedly good....  
He turned to Tyler, who stirred to wakefulness, and gasped at the evil thing before him, holding onto the weapon that nearly ended him.... He tried to scoot away, but found only the cold stones of the wall behind him. He was truly defenseless before this unholy union. The light from the flickering scones on the walls toyed with his mind, and William Wilson's face seemed utterly obscured by the shadow, save for the pale yellow glow of his fangs.  
"Hello, Number 77."  
"Go away..." Tyler weeped. He tried to think of the angels, but the cold darkness seemed to drive them away. William grabbed another thing off the table- a chain, a choker collar made of metal. Tyler squirmed as William clasped it around his skinny neck, and pulled the chain tight.  
"I would walk with me if I were you, boy." William whispered, the chill from the void on his voice. "I will happily use this lovely thing if you don't."  
"No...." Tyler muttered. He refused to budge.  
"YYYYYEEEGGAAHHH!!" William roared, pulling the chain as tight as he could -amazingly strong for a little old man- and dragged Tyler off the safety of his mattress. Tyler saw that there was still glass on the floor, as his palm was impaled by a thin razor shard. He screamed.  
"Oh, that was hot. Do it again!" William cackled. He cracked Torquemada on the stones, and the glass and rock both screamed in a clanking clacking clittering boom of gloom and doom! Tyler flinched and cried, shielding himself and choking as William began to drag him towards the door.  
"Auuck!" Tyler choked.  
"Walk, you miserable faggot!" William bellowed in the devil's tone.  
It was then that he noticed Ryan, standing in the doorway, with his rubber shorts and rubber shirt and shock collar. He wore flip flops since the glass on the floor was deadly. He saw William, the Master of Masters dragging his friend away.... the whole world was collapsing around him, but this man still coveted little Tyler for his defiant spirit.... He saw things that made him furious.... The disgusting, barely-human old man... the fiendish whip... Tyler's bloody hand.... Tyler crying and begging.... and the chain.  
The chain...  
The chain!  
The same chain.... the one chain that ended Aaron's life; the last thing that ended his lover's life was going to end the life of another one he so dearly cared about. Ryan suddenly felt nothing but rage in his heart for this.... DEMON-MAN before him, old and crusted over with a thick layer of sin. He stomped his foot forward and bared his teeth. Fists clenched and were hungry for justice.  
"Let him go right now." He growled. William stood taller, with a gasp and a glance on his face that spoke volumes of his displeasure at his slave's betrayal!  
"Number 71! That is NO way to address your master." He scolded.  
"You are not my master, you miserable, crusty old fuck!" Ryan clenched his fist even tighter. And William grew livid with wrath.... how.... how DARE he! The old man's thoughts wanted blood and pain! Oh he would get it...  
"You're forgetting a crucial detail, Number 67." William Wilson grinned, a tiny universal remote, one that was the master remote to any trained slave's collar, emerging from his sleeve, almost magically. He pressed the button.  
"AAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUAAAAAAAUUUUGGGHHH!!!!!!!!!" Ryan fell to the ground as his collar tore into his throat with the lightning bolts of the Gods! He screamed as they bit and burned his flesh, making his muscles convulse and twitch in stinging pains. He cried out as the voltage must have been turned up to near-lethal levels....  
"Suck it, Number 71!" William laughed. He kept laughing as Ryan kept screaming. His neck, where the two metallic shooters of the divine fire touched his skin, began to blister over. Ryan, though, caught a glimpse of Tyler, weeping and dying as Ryan was helpless to save him. He had let him down.... like he had let Aaron down..... And it made him....  
FURIOUS!  
He concentrated his mind, the shard of anger at William Wilson being a very, very, very effective focus. He managed to control his arms long enough, to reach up to his collar, grasping the leather tightly in his hands, even as the sparks shot through him. He gripped his collar, and suddenly remembered the look on Tyler's face when he showed him the little blue candle. That hopeful glance with the glinting bright eyes.... those were worth defending! Worth the pain! Worth the agony! Worth it all!  
William Wilson's laughter ceased instantly when Ryan, screaming and possessing strength never seen before, tore the fucking shock collar in two! The still-living bolts sizzled and hummed, unable to find flesh to torment, and proved totally harmless as they fell to the floor. A massive watery-red blister had formed where the thunderous teeth had applied themselves to his flesh, and the boy rose slowly, his hands clenched in claws and balling into fists as he breathed in and out.  
"Defiant fuck!" William snarled. "I'll rip your balls off for that!"  
"Come and get them." Ryan retorted. His tone.... there was an animal behind it, Tyler was sure. An animal that had taken enough shit in it's life and now wanted to be the alpha male. He noticed that Ryan's eyes almost burned with little flames... little flames from a little candle in the middle of the darkness.  
William Wilson swung Torquemada at the skinny nerdy slave, who thrust his arm up, roaring as the whip struck and wound itself around his arm.... it's glass teeth slid into the flesh of the forearm like lances of a dozen black knights, and blood gurgled freely at the call of gravity to the stone floor. But Ryan reached up with his other hand and gripped the weapon, a tiny but not deep shard scratching his palm and drawing blood. He gripped, and tore the damn thing from William's fingers!  
"No!" William protested, but reached into his coat pocket, drawing forth a tazer. One that extended and fired with what must have been a ridiculous amount of voltage.... this wasn't set to "stun" at all- William intended for Ryan to die in this fight. He dropped the chain and held the prod out, extending his free arm for balance, like a fencer.  
Ryan nudged something with his flip flop. He glanced down, and saw two shards of glass, pointy and long and thin. They were perfect. He reached down, grabbing them, and gripping them. They were tiny, but sharp. He almost sliced himself. Not that it mattered... his hand and forearm stung fiercely. He locked eyes with William, not blinking, and not ever wavering away.  
William blinked and grinned. "Those will do nothing, boy."  
"Let's find out." Ryan challenged. Tyler gasped, for this was not going to end well.  
"YAW!" William screamed for pain! He stepped forward, prod stretched out, waving it in the air, trying to get a hit on him. Ryan didn't move from his spot, but tensed up, standing on the balls of his feet. A pouncing stance.  
Then, like that, William Wilson jumped forward, his prod aimed center-mass. Ryan ran at it, the rubber and the electrical death-prod kissing each other harmlessly as he lifted the shards over his head and stabbed down.  
As luck would have it....  
An inhumanly shrill pitched shriek erupted from the old man as he felt the sting of the twin glass blades....  
On his eyes.  
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"  
Blood and many other fluids best let unidentified spilled down his face, the broken glass of the weapon so evilly wielded on the innocent drinking hungrily at the wicked blood of the wicked man. Torquemada's sharp glass spawn, it seemed, knew no true loyalty but their own vile thirst.... William Wilson tripped and fell to the floor, shards of glass drilling into his palms and sharply setting his blood free. He cried, howled, shrieked, shrilled, screamed, and moaned as Ryan backed away.  
"YOU BITCH! YOU FUCKING FAGGOT CUNT ! I'LL KILL YOU! I'LL KILL YOU! I'LL KILL YOU GOD DAMMIT!" The creature cried, and Ryan furiously ran at him, grabbing William by the shoulders and hauling his scratching, blind and biting form to the broken tub, where he gripped the old man by the shoulders and head and forced him under.  
"Ugghbbbbuuguugbbbbbluughggbbb!" The creature screamed. The blood began to spill into the water like an oily, sickly mist. Ryan did not feel the icy coldness of the water, only the cold flesh of the unholy one he held down. Ryan pressed him deeper and deeper, until he felt, through William Wilson's head, the bottom of the tub. By now the old man was really thrashing and clawing, clinging to life. In a sudden burst of strength, he managed to right himself, turning around and running his fingernails across Ryan's face.  
"Shit!" Ryan cried, forcing the old man's head underwater once more! He went in entirely with William, blood and water coating their bodies in a communion most dark. But he refused to die, his hands reaching up and wrapping themselves around Ryan's neck as well, as the waters continued to turn redder and redder with each second passing.  
The head of William Wilson emerged, screaming profanities in a babbling matter as it gasped for air with his bleeding broken eyes. It occurred to Ryan that perhaps this man was not human! William bit and spat and shrieked, but Ryan grunted back, throwing him back down. The cycle kept repeating itself as William refused to die.  
Ryan clenched his teeth in rage. "You!" He shouted as he dunked William again, ripping him back up to increase his torment. The broken man gasped and groaned. "Will!" Dunk. "Never!" Dunk. "Hurt anyone!" Dunk. "AGAIN!" ….. SPLOOSH!  
"Ubbbbbuuuubbbbb!" The bloody bubbles were fewer this time, but William still fought and fought, coming to the surface once more. Ryan did not notice Tyler standing there, nor did he see what he was wielding. Tyler swung a mighty overhead arch that burst several of his scabs, coating the bandages in fresh blood. He screamed in both pain and fury "NEVER AGAIN!"  
Down came the sharp curved end of the hammer- the side meant to remove the nails.... and with a sickening crack and a vomit-worthy splat, buried itself in William's skull, deep and into his brain matter. The man with no soul sighed hoarsely, shallow and finally defeated. Ryan finally lost it and spewed bile and what was left of his lunch onto William, adding insult to lethal injury. Tyler also vomited, sickened by what he had just done; though William hardly counted, a human being had just been killed by these two. William sighed once more. "It can't.... not like thisssss....." And he limply slid into the vile mixture of fluids, a final trio of bubbles heralding his final breath.  
Ryan sat there as the corpse fell out of his grip. He finally crawled out of the tub, covered in filth and disease. He quickly took the two buckets of ice water, flinging them over himself, trying to wash off the impurity. Tyler's lip quivered, and Ryan began to cry as well. Not really in sadness, but in relief. The wicked ancient foe, the one who brought so much misery.... was dead.  
Tyler, aching with every step, fell into Ryan, who embraced him tightly.  
"Th-th-thank yyyyooouu!" Tyler cried, slamming his eyes shut and burying his face into the skinny nerd saint's shoulder. "My hero was with me all along..."  
Ryan held onto Tyler so tight it was hard for the wounded boy to breathe. "I just needed someone to help me back." And they both let their tears flow freely. Tyler gripped Ryan's face tightly, kissing him softly on the lips. "You have done so much.... so so much for me! I owe you forever..."  
"No, I owe YOU...." Ryan sobbed. "Thanks to you.... I'm finally free, Tyler." He held the wounded, unbroken boy tighter and cried tears of jovial sweetness. "It's the greatest gift I've ever been given."


	21. It Was Worth Everything

"Love will have it's sacrifices. No sacrifice without blood."  
-J. Sheridan Le Fanu.

 

Once, sixteen men dared to cross paths with Avery Arthur Jones.  
Now they lay at his feet, their bodies destroyed, and their souls sent to Hell. The white, clean walls were stained permanently now with the brutal triptych painting that Avery had created. He glanced at the machete he had liberated from the orderlies.... and he threw it at the wall in disgust. Tears began to flow. What a disgusting human being he was.... He wiped the sweat from his brow, but only left himself with a fresh coating of blood. There was only silence and solitude to comfort him. Each of the bodies stared up at him, judging him for his actions.... Was it worth the lives? Oh, this fucked up world, with it's fucked up people! His thoughts went into anarchy, blaming everything and everyone around him for his tortured existence. Ghost, William, Isaac.....  
Isaac!  
Avery reconnoitered the area, bloodlust in his eyes once more, adrenaline flowing. Knife in hand, knuckles white and active, and hungry for revenge. But he saw nothing, only silence and solitude, his constant companions. The doors to an empty cell opened, and Cory, taking Gale on his back once more, stepped out. "Cory, are you okay?" Avery turned. He was a horror made manifest, as Cory looked at the bloodstains on him. His light blue eyes contrasted greatly with the blood on his face most of all; he was deranged and a killer. Yet his concern for another person's being... Avery wasn't gone.  
"I- I'm fine." Cory stuttered. "You got a little crazy."  
"I'm sorry." Avery sighed. "I'm so tired of fighting."  
"I understand.... We need to get out of here, once we get Tyler." Cory tried to comfort him. This expedition had been a terrible experience; He could tell that Avery was shaken by the killings. Although Cory had ended lives, the sheer bloodletting that Avery had done... it was unhuman. And unhinging.  
"Avery Jones." Ghost's voice called on the bluetooth in his ear.  
"Yes?" Avery responded, holding the piece.  
"William Wilson is dead."  
"Holy shit! How?"  
"Tyler and Ryan. It was.... beautiful."  
"ARE THEY ALIVE?" Avery shouted.  
"Yes. Follow my instructions. You'll find them." Avery nodded to Cory, who followed.

***

The hollow mechanical voice was guiding them higher into the sky.  
"Hurry." Ghost spoke. "There will be a helicopter coming soon, and we cannot have Isaac escape."  
"Gotcha." Carter bounded the stairs, four or five at a time, eager to break the bones of the man who made his life so miserable. KJ followed and Diana as well. She had left her pick back in the body several floors ago. The place was largely lifeless, with the majority of the men who once guarded it being blood-soaked corpses down below. The wisest of them sought refuge, trying to hide from the group.  
They reached the top layer of the stairs, eagerly throwing open the door to the roof, where they found only clouds and wind, along with a a pile of metal pipes, long neglected and unused, sitting against the building where the twin doors of the elevator and the stairs emerged into the open air. Across from them, by several dozens of feet, was the helipad. The clouds were low, and drizzle coated everything and was thickly coating the air they brought into their lungs. Diana glanced around, with the cloud cover obscuring everything around her, leaving her on a platform in the sky; it was as if the roof of the warehouse was the whole of existence, and everything else was just grey-white void.   
They moved away from the stairs, trying to get a grip on the situation. Then the elevator doors opened, and out stepped a familiar enemy to the three of them. Isaac glanced around, not giving away anything with his body language. He recognized the faces of the three young people immediately. It was Ghost's slave-boy, and Number 65, both of them furious and eager to fight.  
And his daughter.  
Isaac waved his hand in the air. "Good evening, gentlemen, Diana." His demeanor was cool and in control. He had virtually no weapons on him, save his own considerable fighting skills. The three of them were more than a match for him. Yet, they knew that fighting Isaac was a dangerous proposition. Something about the way he presented himself....  
"Diana, I'm disappointed in you." Isaac spoke, chin held high with smugness. "Bedding down with Number 65 like that. You're so much better than a slave."  
"Shut the fuck up." She commanded, her voice no less powerful than his own. "I know you lead Aaron to kill himself. I'm gonna make you pay for that!" She was barely holding back her tears.  
"Number 67 was broken." Isaac then stopped himself, because even he couldn't believe his words. He could... he could not... he could not come to call his son by his own name.  
"AARON!" Diana screamed. "AARON YOUR SON, DADDY!"  
"Don't you speak to me like that, Diana!" Isaac fumed, pointing his finger at her with fury on his voice. "I never thought you'd betray me!"  
"BETRAY YOU?!" Carter cried.  
"Shut your mouth!" Isaac commanded.  
"I was never on your side, Daddy." Diana spoke, hate and sorrow co-mingling in her to produce an alchemy of melancholy. "And thanks to you, Aaron is dead. You killed him."  
"I did no such thing. He hung himself on his own choosing. I loved him."  
"YOU FUCKING LIAR!" Diana shrieked so loud that even God shuddered at her wrath, rushing at him, her fist so lightning quick he felt it before he saw it impact his jaw.  
"DIANA!" Carter bellowed, raising his death-stick and charging. KJ said nothing but rushed in as well.  
It was too fast for them all to see.  
BANG!  
Diana screamed as the bullet entered her thigh and fell to the cement. Carter and KJ immediately broke off their attack, spreading out. Isaac kept the gun leveled on Diana, gazing at her with a look undecipherable to the two. A mixture of rage and agony- he reeled with indecision to continue or to spare her.  
"Daddy!" Diana screamed, and Isaac suddenly realized the horror of his actions....  
"YYYYYAAAAWWWWHHHH!!!!!!!!" Carter echoed across the face of the world! His man's primal protective instinct empowering his throw with the strength of Olympus! The metallic death-scepter flew in a tight swirling vertical cyclone at Isaac, who reacted too late as the gun flew from his hand.  
"FUCK!" The demon screamed. Were he a lesser man, Isaac's fist would have been destroyed by such a blow, but in this case, a vicious bruise was all that remained. Carter ignored it, shucking off his tank-top and, in a thoughtless, pure motion, swooped down on Diana, tying it so hard around her blood-gushing thigh she screamed in pain- but for now it was sealed. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he lifted her off the bloody ground like a bride.  
KJ and Isaac, both recovering from Carter's primal shriek, noticed the gun on the ground. They glared knives at each other, then bolted for the gun! Isaac's boots ground the stones beneath him into submission, while KJ simply FLEW! Reacting and not totally thinking clearly, he gave the gun a swift kick into the sky! Isaac dived too late for it, as the gun sailed into the mists where it would no longer harm a soul. KJ assumed a defensive stance between Carter and Isaac. "Get her out of here!" He commanded.  
"No, let's kill this bitch!" Carter shouted.  
"CART! SHE! WILL! DIE!! GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!"  
He did not argue then, and held his woman close as she breathed heavily; every movement Carter made sent shards of agony up her leg, but she took comfort in that he did everything out of his love for her. Carter managed to activate the elevator door, standing in the cube that would take them back down.  
"KJ! Angels at your back!"  
KJ glanced over at the couple. He saw Carter hold Diana's face close to his. "I know!" He shouted back. Isaac stood up, murder in his intent, and hellfire in his eyes. But KJ held his ground. It no longer mattered that he lived or died, as long as everyone else was safe. And if he could take this bitch down, so be it!  
It was worth it.

***

Ryan escorted Tyler, until they came across a lone man in the hall- wait, he wasn't alone. He had a friend in tow, with a friend of his on his back. When their eyes met, suddenly Heaven rejoiced, shooting fireworks and singing hymns of glory as the cherubim played their trumpets in triumph.  
"AVERY!" Tyler squealed, eyes bright with the amber flames of love once more. To see his lover in Hell, come to liberate him! His knight! His archangel! His guardian! He had come to the bowels of this hopeless place at last!  
"Ty- Oh my God, Tyler!" Avery ran to him as well, horrified at the damage that had been done to him, and relieved to see him alive. Tyler, save for bandages, was nude, and the scars on his body..... they were so like his own.  
"Avery! Avery! Oh my God!" Tyler embraced his bloody lover, ignoring the horror and remembering the man beneath it all. "I never submitted! I never! I never submitted!"  
"Good boy...." Avery was crying now, jovial tears of sweet relief at Tyler's safety. "You were strong...." They pressed their foreheads together briefly before they kissed, lips meeting each other's soft but rough textures and recognizing each other as beloved beauties from what seemed oh so long ago! Avery pulled apart, his grip on Tyler never ceasing. He drank in those bright eyes.... Tyler sobbed in hopeful relief as well, his faith rewarded with his savior come to claim his soul from this hopeless place!  
Avery glanced down at the groin region, seeing the Mark.... and he pulled away, gasping in horror, and Tyler began to cry again. "Who did this to you?" Avery demanded, knowing the answer but he had to hear it, for he did not believe it. The Mark of 77 on Tyler....  
"Isaac..." Tyler sniffed. Avery suddenly embraced him and kissed him and rubbed his hair, which was filthy and greasy and gross but he cared nothing for it!  
"Oh my God I am so, so so so sorry..." Avery pleaded.  
"It's not your fault!" Tyler cried and locked his arms around Avery.  
"I should have killed him!! I could have!! Then you'd never suffer!!" Avery buried his face in his lover's shoulder. And Cory felt his heart sink into his feet, for Avery was blaming himself for everything; despite being the catalyst, Cory knew that Avery was going to absolutely massacre Isaac for this.  
"I love you!" Tyler cried loudly.  
"I love you more!"  
"No, I love you more!"  
"I-" Avery never got to finish before Tyler pressed his lips against his. Their grip was so strong even gravity was powerless to part them. Their tears warmly caressed each other's cheeks, like little faerie kisses; Tyler felt Avery, checking to make sure he was real and not a hallucination most cruel. Sure enough, he felt very real!  
Avery caressed Tyler's backside, the horrors of the scars plaguing his mind, urging him to seek revenge. He had never seen wounds like this before. At all. These scars were not like his....  
"What... happened?"  
"Torquemada." Ryan explained. "A whip with shards of glass."  
"GLASS?" Avery exclaimed. It explained the jagged scarring of Tyler's wounds. "How..."  
"He struck me twenty-three times." Tyler replied, his bright eyes watery. "I felt every single stroke. But I did not submit. I did not submit, Avery!"  
Avery spoke nothing, holding his young lover oh so tightly, as if to ward away everything horrible that ever happened to him. Wrath burned within him. Isaac could be forgiven for what he had done to him, Avery knew this; but for what he had done to Tyler in these days; Avery could not simply let that slide.  
"Avery Jones." Ghost's hollow voice sounded. "I hate to interrupt, but KJ is up on the roof with Isaac."  
Isaac. The name made him so angry! The name of all hateful things that had ever happened to him, all focused in a single mortal form! The elevator dinged, and Avery drew his knife rushing for it, as if Isaac was going to emerge any second. Instead he met the terrified but determined eyes of a young man, one holding onto his wounded woman, and he twisted around immediately. Diana screamed as they spun.... Avery felt the tip of his knife puncture the skin of his shoulder blade before he realized what he had done. "Carter!" He gasped. "I am so sorry!"  
"Gods.... Avery, KJ is up there, and him and Isaac.... Ow...."  
Avery stood aside as they joined the group in the hall. "Avery, we have to get out of here. She's bleeding bad."  
"Go back to the garage." Ghost commanded on his comlink. "Get them all to safety. Avery, Isaac is up there, and you are the only one who can defeat him." Avery glanced over at Tyler, wounds fresh and blood caked on his young body. The thing that tore apart his soul most, was the hurtful look in Tyler's eyes. They had just been reunited! Now they had to separate again! Fate was a cunt, that was for sure....  
Tyler ran to him, rushing into his embrace and kissing him so deeply that the two of them felt their hearts and souls caress each other, when Tyler pulled back. "The Roman Ritual. Do you know it?"  
"The Latin phrase?"  
"Yes. Speak it if you need help. The Angels will be there." Tyler was sincere when he said it; Avery was not much of a believer, but seeing how Tyler was sincere and pure in his intentions, he believed in him. "I love you!" Tyler cried, a tear slipping down his rough cheek.  
"I love you more!" Avery cried as well, two tears cascading down his own.  
"Nuh uh!" Tyler sadly giggled.  
"I promise I'll be back for you, you snuggly retard." Avery's lips quivered.  
"I know you will. I believe in you." Tyler pressed his face against Avery's again and they kissed deeply. He finally dismounted, stumbling back to Ryan's' embrace. Avery stepped onto the elevator, glancing back at the companions before him. Carter, broken but determined, holding Diana, who was still fighting, despite the fact that her leg was burning and bleeding. Cory held Gale aloft, and the soft smile of sleep was on him. Cory had done well with his burden; Avery had to admire that. Then there was Tyler, on the verge of tears but held strong by Ryan, a plucky, skinny boy who showed nothing but admiration for Avery. They had hardly spoken, but there was an understanding between them. Avery knew that Tyler would be safe with Ryan.  
He stood there for a second before pressing the button for the roof.  
"Angels at your back, sir!" Carter nodded, a salute if there ever was one. Diana gripped him tighter.  
"I love you!!!" Tyler cried.  
"I know." Avery smiled. The doors closed before him, and he ascended to the Gates- the place where Heaven in the sky met this Hell on the ground; where he would finally be rid of his ancient foe once and for all. Where he would finally put all of the horrible events in his bogus childhood and his awful past behind him. It was going to be bloody, and he knew that he may or may not return.  
But to see Tyler finally safe.... it was worth everything.


	22. The Vengeful Gaze of God

"No doubt there are other important things in life besides conflict, but there are not many things so inevitably interesting. The very Saints interest us most when we think of them as engaged in conflict with the Devil."  
-Robert Lynd, "The Blue Lion"

"Never in the field of human conflict was so much owed by so many to so few."  
-Winston Churchill

 

The helicopter flew in like a gigantic dragonfly, buffeted by the strong winds. It was a small, silver-green one with large windows. The perfect kind of windows for getting a good sight of the pilot. The cloud cover made it hard to see, so Ghost had to plan his attack perfectly. He had the line secured, with the harpoon gun on his shoulder. Judging from the direction of the winds and the beginning of the rain, he guessed that the pilot would swing around the building to get a lay of the land before landing. That was when he would strike.  
Lightning struck in the distance, off out in the cold ocean. But it could not drown out the droning roar of the chopper as it circled around, it's lights very visible despite the grey haze. Ghost took aim, his good eye focused on the target. Sure enough, he found a line.... he judged the wind speed, and made a guess at the helicopter pilots chosen pathway.  
Ghost thought about the man he was about to kill. He had chosen the wrong employer to work for, and Ghost was going to make him permanently pay for it now. He felt that he should feel remorse, but he didn't care. He had killed a lot of men, some more and some less deserving; it no longer mattered. In fact, he kind of enjoyed this game now. It was like shooting deer. Except that these deer were thinking beings that could kill him so easily if they just became more aware. Oh well....  
He glimpsed the pilot, and aimed center mass. Sure enough, the harpoon punctured the glass, impaling itself through the man's ribcage, hopefully killing him instantly, but Ghost gave it no thought. The pilot slumped against the controls, and the chopper took a dive into the ground, the harpoon cable pulling tight and swinging around, for the trajectory of the thing was at an angle. Ghost ducked just in time for the lightning rod on the building to be taken out by the cable, which snapped hard. The chopper crashed into the cement below, it's blades making a monstrous booming sound as they ground themselves into oblivion! Ghost glimpsed Isaac through the haze, glancing over the side of the building at his last salvation laying there in ruins. Ghost pulled out his last trick; an old grenade from his days in the service. He pulled the pin and casually dropped it down below, glancing with a grim grin on his charred face as the device collided and exploded in fire. Isaac fell back, stunned, and grunting. This gave Ghost enough time to drag KJ's body out of the way. The boy groaned as he moved him. He bet that several bones were broken, and they would have to slip below when Avery and Isaac began their fight.  
Just like he planned.  
Everything had gone according to plan, perfectly. Tyler was safe, and his champion would face down William's champion. They were going to have their duel, all right; just not in the way that William intended.... Ghost chuckled to himself, trying to comfort KJ in his agony. All they could do now was huddle in the shadows and watch the unfolding conflict between the twin gods of the game.

***

The elevator doors opened, and Avery stepped out, calmly into the clouded sky. An explosion of sorts had rattled the building, and he saw the smoke rising from below, off to his left, and with Isaac the devil staring down at the abyss. He held in his hands a long metallic piece of pipe, long but stained with blood. Avery followed the small drops on the ground back around the entrance to where he came out, seeing KJ laying in the arms of Ghost.  
The old man in the gas mask nodded, and he heard a small moan from KJ. It was going to be okay; for KJ was tough and hard to kill. He turned to face down his tormentor once and for all, calmly striding forth. The old Master looked up from his despairing glance into the fiery abyss below. Other than the smoke, it was just them on the roof in the midst of the clouds. The breeze kept growing stronger, and Avery felt a small raindrop heralding the arrival of the coming storm. He and Isaac met their gazes, locked on each other; their conflict renewed but still fresh as wet blood.  
"How old are you, Avery?" Isaac asked. Avery took a second to realize that the old man had spoken his actual name, acknowledging him as if human.  
"Thirty-five."  
Isaac rubbed his face. He looked spiritually beaten down. "Wow.... has it REALLY been twenty-two years?"  
"It's been a long time coming, Isaac." Avery spoke fiercely.  
"Why? Why are you up here? I'm sure William Wilson is dead, and Tyler must be safe now. Are you just up here to kill me?"  
"I know that Tyler will never sleep soundly knowing you're still walking the earth, spreading misery." Avery replied. "I haven't had any peace of mind for the past two decades, Isaac. No thanks to you and your Master."  
"My master? William is not my master. He and I are business partners."  
Avery laughed, quite mockingly, actually. "You just can't admit that you're a slave."  
"I AM NO SLAVE!" Isaac fumed. "I have broken all who were brought to me!"  
"Except for me, and Tyler." Avery amused himself with a smirk, for Isaac had his feathers ruffled so much. "You're just William's bitch, and you're losing your touch!"  
"I AM THE MASTER!" Isaac raged. He gripped his metallic pipe like a staff. Avery noticed, however, that he was quick and firm in his grip. The rain began to pour now, with the dry cement fading away as the glistening dark grey took over.  
Isaac calmed himself with the raindrops hitting him. "Do you know how much I've sacrificed? My wife and son are dead! My daughter hates me! And now my partner is dead and my livelihood is collapsing! Do you realize how much you've cost me?!"  
"Me?" Avery raised an eyebrow. "Isaac, you had a choice all along! But you were broken a long-ass time ago by William!"  
"I AM THE MASTER!" Isaac roared, stomping his foot.  
"You are the master of NOTHING!" Avery roared back. "You're a broken man! A man broken by an slimy old fucker! You didn't stand a chance, Isaac!"  
"That's it! I will break you, Avery Jones! Even if it means killing you! And then I'm gonna track down that little cunt of your's and break him too!" Isaac was frothing now, his eyes orange with livid, burning rage.  
Avery, though, was totally calm and pointed his finger at the man. "Isaac Milton, if you so much as come within a single mile of Tyler, not even death can save you from me."  
"Is that a challenge, BOY?" Isaac grinned. "Draw your weapon. Let's finish this, once and for all. I will break you, O' Man Unbroken, and then we'll see who the real bitch is here!" Avery drew his trusty knife. He would need to be quick, for a single swipe from the pipe would be killer. They only stared at each other, their dueling wills meeting invisibly in the rainstorm. It was Isaac who broke it off, shrieking a madman's battle-shout.  
"YYYYYYAAAAHHHH!!!!!!"  
Avery charged at him as well, but at the very, very very very last minute changed his trajectory, diving low on his knees with his back and skull arching backwards as Isaac swung the pipe wide. It came within an inch of Avery's nose, and he failed to strike, instead jumping up and rapidly stepping back to avoid the swings. Isaac, he noticed, move freakishly fast.  
His knife had no power to stop the pipe.... he needed to improvise!  
Isaac moved his hands to the middle of the pipe and began to swing it like a staff, wielding both ends with skill and force. Despite his age, Isaac was no pushover; he had studied many paths of warcraft himself.  
"Why... I'll be damned...." Isaac huffed as Avery slid back. "A fellow martial artist, seriously?"  
A sudden dawning of dark revelation hit Avery. Shit! He was facing a fellow martial artist.... and it was his worst nightmare given form. All the orderlies he had faced were unskilled fighters, easily taken down, but Isaac was unlike them all!  
The old master swung his staff down low, and Avery leaped over it, only to find himself colliding with the other end as it came lightning quick! He rolled with the blow, however, in the same direction, totally deflecting the impact and getting some distance between him and Isaac. The old man laughed, a "gufah!"-type triumphant one; for he realized that Avery was on the defensive. Glancing about, he saw nothing of use here on the roof....  
Ghost had taken advantage of the confusion, dragging KJ to the elevator. Avery glimpsed them getting on, with Ghost frantically pushing the button to descend..... and then he saw them! A whole pile of pipes of different lengths, discarded. Avery jumped back, and taking his trusty knife, THREW it at Isaac's face!  
The old man deflected the damn thing, but Avery didn't notice, for he sprinted to the pile of pipes before Isaac could get his bearings. He grabbed two pieces of pipe, shorter in length than Isaac's weapon (his being a 6-foot behemoth) But they were solid. He turned to see Isaac-  
"RRRRRAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!"  
The old man had the pipe on one end, bring it down with the force of the hammer of Thor!  
Avery met him in mid-air, crossing the two pipes into an X-shape and pushing together on the bottom portions with all his might. And the cross held! The titanic blow came down and clashed. Avery felt his elbows and forearms explode with pain, but he held them tight, for Isaac needed to die! His brain, his heart, his muscles were all working towards this goal!  
Isaac shrieked, pulled back and swung wide, with Avery stepping back once more. Avery dove in, swinging his pipes downward with the old man deflecting! He held the pipe in place with his own before Isaac swirled around him, the force nearly knocking him off his feet – his head lowered just in time for the swing of the pipe-staff to miss him.  
"You're good!" Avery commented.  
"Flattery won't work on me, Mr. Jones!" Isaac mocked, doing a spinning swing with the staff- the force was too much to overcome, so Avery was forced to back away. Then Avery pulled the pipe in his right hand overhead and swung downward, releasing the weapon into the free air! It flew and before Isaac could block it struck him in the chest, making him kneel.  
"FUCK!" He shouted, and Avery charged at him, yelling, screaming furies! Wielding a single short pipe, he could strike so much quicker! Isaac stood up, clearly in agony, but determined to kill Avery, the Man Unbroken. He swung and swung and swung, being blocked with a Clang! Clang! Clang!  
Avery now swung his pipe like a sword, using his other hand for balance. Isaac swung wide and low, missing the ankles when Avery jumped; the young man smashed the pipe into his shoulder! Isaac let the pipe go, holding it with his good arm and spinning and thrusting like crazy, trying to keep Avery at bay! It was only a few seconds, but Isaac recovered, bring his bruised arm back into play. He thrust forward, using his pipe like a blunt spear, and the impact hit Avery in the stomach.  
"God!" Avery lost his wind, trying to back up and defend himself, but fell low on a knee. He whipped his pipe up, hands holding both ends as Isaac brought it down where his head should have been! Isaac attempted to kick Avery, but the younger man slid the pipe off to the right, and then got back up on his feet, darting to the left! In a matter of a second, Avery swung his pipe at Isaac's exposed lower back, smashing it with a satisfying crunch!  
Barely audible, and sounding like "FUCKBITCHSHIT!" This only seemed to enrage Isaac further, who clumsily, and furiously, swung his massive pipe. Avery ducked and hit the trainer in the kneecap- it was then that he realized that Isaac was wearing armor of a sort- knee pads, reinforced gloves, elbowpads, and possibly a bulletproof vest.... no wonder he had been so hard to kill!  
Avery got in close, where he wrapped his arm around the pipe, gripping it in a vice between him and his waist. He slid back, and swung his pipe down on Isaac's right side repeatedly, but the clever master thrusted the pipe forward, letting go with Avery still attached, and the younger man fell backwards onto the cement. Isaac grabbed the short pipe, and swung down, only to have Avery roll out from under him and smack him in the back of the knee with a well-timed hit!  
"Dammit!" Isaac frothed. Lightning and thunder exploded from the clouds, adding menace to his ferocity! But now the two men were equals, dueling as swordsmen might have done centuries before.

Clang clang clang! Went their crude weapons. Avery did not tire, and neither did Isaac. They were no longer men fighting on a rainy rooftop; they were the embodiment of ideals clashing and unyielding. Angels light and dark sang their praises in the rain, their feathers flapping fierce as their champions sought to beat down the other.  
Clang clang clang! Went their crude weapons once more. Avery did a spinning flourish, his heart pumping wildfire through his bloodstream. He realized that this battle was not just for him, but for his beloved Tyler. If he let Isaac live, Tyler would never be safe from this demon, and worse, he would never be there to protect him from the harms this vile man wished! The thoughts of Tyler having his clothes ripped off, the man tearing out pieces of his flesh and eventually killing Tyler drove Avery to keep fighting like he had never endured before!  
Clang clang clang! Went their crude weapons once more. Isaac saw the last thing in the world that would grant him legitimacy. The last obstacle to his own freedom, his own mastery; he would destroy this man, the one who had soiled his reputation and honor. He had sacrificed too much now to give in; his family was dead or dying, and his occupation -nay, the one thing he truly believed in- was on the verge of collapse. He fought hard and gave his all, because he truly had nothing left to lose.

Avery swung hard for Isaac's knee, but the old man stepped back at the last second and brought his pipe down hard overhead. Avery blocked with his arm, hearing it crunch horrifyingly! His knee buckled, and he fell backwards onto his ass, the arm that was his shield sending lightning bolts of pain through him.  
He swung wildly as Isaac attempted to swing down again, hitting the man in the wrist and disarming him, but he found Isaac's boot in his chest, pushing him down hard. Avery banged his head on the cement, and felt his ears ringing as his brain screamed agonizing insults. He lay there, stunned with only the raindrops to comfort him.  
He saw Isaac in his swimming visions, holding the massive pipe-staff he had been wielding so evilly against him. Avery felt his muscles ache, but there was no way to move them. He lay there, helpless before the behemoth demon with the massive death-staff in his hands. Isaac laughed and laughed and laughed, raising his device high into the air, as if challenging the sky itself.  
"NOW, AVERY JONES!" Isaac bellowed in a voice that could have only come from Cocytus, the Ninth Circle of Hell, "YOU WILL SUBMIT!"  
"I!! WILL!! NEVER!! SUBMIT!!" Avery roared back in defiance undying and immortal.  
And God responded.

***

Avery could only gaze in awe at the Heavenly sky!  
With the boom of the voice of the Almighty, seven Seraphim with seven trumpets brandished seven notes, forming seven shards of light that met at a nexus in the clouds, combining their seven powers into a single, massive, titanic bolt. Then, like the Holy Lance of The Lord, the overwhelmingly divine light arced earthbound; grace and brute force cascading like seven fiery comets directly at the Wicked Man with the unholy staff!!  
Isaac did not have the power within himself to scream, for these things are powerless when the Divine smites those found wanting! His face contorted as the nerve endings in his fingers burned into oblivion, and his heart damn near exploded in his chest! Veins burst blood, organs ruptured, and his hair disintegrated in milliseconds, leaving only a broken, destroyed man before Avery, walking gracelessly backwards as he and the Man Unbroken could only fathom as to HOW he was still breathing the wet air, much less still standing up....  
Then Isaac saw them!  
The Angels, the terrible holy might of the Heavenly Host! They bore looks of intense hatred, and aimed their weapons at him. Twin angels in armor of ice with long spears stabbed him, making him bleed semi-frozen blood. A beautiful woman fired arrows of light that pierced his heart, while a short blond angel launched a chain of steel and broken glass from his voice, flaying the flesh of Isaac. An angry one with a flaming mace and flaming wings beat the holy smite out of him, his broken bruised bones aching with each strike.  
Isaac felt black smoke turn into golden spiders crawling on his flesh, with the night-black wings obscuring his vision, save for the grinning green-eyed angel mocking him for his unworthiness. He saw a short skinny angel come into his view, and thrust a candelabra with tiny blue wicks and tiny blue dancing lights, into his guts, sending fiery torment through his already mangled frame.

Avery stood up, seeing his trusty knife only a few feet from him. He picked it up. He had a job to finish, once and for all.

The most terrible of the angels was the seven-winged Avery before him, the feathers of it made of divine-forged true-steel, always striking home in the souls of tainted and the damned. The angel had Avery's bright fiery eyes and a huge sword that cleaved him in so much pain! Isaac had no defense against it's brutal, rapid, angry strikes- for how could a mortal man unarmed deflect the swing of a massive sword, let alone the soul-burning stabbings of seven wings!!  
But it's words were the worst of all.  
SHING SHING SHING! "Crux Sancta Sit Mihi Lux!" Isaac cried like a weakling. "NOO!!!"  
SHING SHING SHING! "Non Draco Sit Mihi Dux!" The words burned! Oh how they burned and drilled holes in his flesh! His armor was useless, and his faithless soul lay fully exposed to their power!  
SHING SHING SHING! "Vade Retro, Satana!" He backed away on command, unable to keep fighting these strikes!  
SHING SHING SHING! "Nunquam Suade Mihi Vana!" He realized that he had no more area to back away from the horrible blows, backing all the way to the very edge of the roof and fought weakly with his fists and slappings- they were likewise useless against the furious Archangel!  
SHING SHING SHING! "Sunt Mala Quae Libas!"  
"YOU DO NOT EXIST!!" Isaac screamed in weak defiance, barely holding his balance on the ledge.  
"IPSE! VENENA! BIBAS!"  
He felt the angel blast his twin arms and seven wings, producing a gale-force wind that impacted his chest with brunt force; it sent him flying off the edge of the building, his screams of terror and panic as gravity sucked him down like a hungry beast. He could only glance up at Heaven, as he moved further and further away from it's warmth and it's light, falling into the cold lake of the Abyss.  
He met THE EYES OF THE LORD, who vengefully met his own and he despaired, for he knew, at this point, that all he had worked for, all he had accomplished, had been for naught. That the entire time, he had been a foolish slave to a master most vile and unholy. He had sacrificed his only son to a fiend; and all he got was the wrath of the deity he did not believe in, from a man who would never submit to one so unworthy has he.....  
Then it all went dark.

Avery looked down at the being who's life he had just ended.  
Rain drained down his body, slowly washing off the blood that had exploded from Master Isaac onto his frame. His chest heaved heavily, for he was exhausted. His bloody knife in hand, slowly being purified once more by the tears of Heaven. His arm broken and burning, and his body aching. Yet, his soul cried out in relief and satisfaction, for he, for the first time in his entire life, felt free of the demons, of the burdens of the past, and able to finally rejoice.  
He turned to the sky, shouting triumph and crying out in elation. He knew then, and he could stop fighting, stop killing, and start to rebuild and start loving for true now! The man who tried to break his spirit, and worse, try to break the spirit of the one he loved so truly, was gone! Dead and rotting in the bowels of Hell! Tears mixed with rainwater as he glanced Heaven-ward, and a smile of relief crossed his face. "Thank you...." He muttered enthusiastically to God, rain and jovial drops of tear falling.  
A soft boom of thunder in the twilight distance answered his prayer.


	23. In Our Eden Reunited

"I don't care up to where our vision reaches. In our future I can see many horizons....."  
-Barnabas

"The entire sum of existence is the magic of being needed by just one other person."  
-Vi Putnam

 

He was curled up on the couch, barefoot and in a long sleeve shirt with jeans. Candles burned, their little flames comforting. He really wished Avery would hurry up and get back. The silence was horrible. It had been a week since they had gotten out of the hospital, all of them, battle-hardened and scarred.   
Ghost had taken care of everything; he had doctors who were on his secret team of freedom fighters already, and he had completely destroyed the security footage of the facility. After they had all evacuated, the police were summoned by Ghost himself, who raided the place and set the boys within free. The news was all over them, and for the days the "sex trafficking ring" was analyzed and over-dissected by reporters and newscasters all around. Many trainers other than Isaac were apprehended, and in total over 42 slaves were liberated- not counting Tyler and Ryan. The police were still on the hunt for the people responsible for the killings, but attributed it mostly to either the mafia or some of the slave boys rebelling and attempting to escape.  
Avery got the chance to meet Tyler's mom, and he kept commenting on how much she looked like Sally Field. They had gotten along famously, yet she still didn't know the full extent of Tyler's injuries. In time, though, he would tell her. Just not right now. He had tried to adjust back into the real world. He really did, but found it difficult to find peace. The candles, though, were gifts from Ryan and KJ. They had bought him a ton of them to light up and warm him at night. There were nights where he still woke up screaming and crying, disrupting Avery's rest as well.  
He had moved in with Avery, for he could not stand to be alone anymore. He could not sleep and jumped at every sound. A sense of dread crawled down his spine when the lights flickered. He didn't dare go out in public after dark, and even being outside made him nervous as hell. Worse, he kept himself clothed around Avery; the look of horror on his face when he saw his scars was still pretty fresh in his mind. He felt ugly and tainted and could not shake the feeling. The locks on the door fidgeted as Avery let himself in, and those bright shiny eyes lit up upon seeing him. Avery smiled, all the work he had done was so worth the sight of those bright eyes.

***

Days later, Tyler went out, this time with an escort of KJ, Ryan, Cory and Gale. Avery had a surprise for him that night, and he could not wait! Until then, the five of them had been out at Pike Place Market, enjoying the fresh sea breeze and noise of the crowd. It was crowded, as usual, with families smiling joyously and crowding the aisle as they slowly migrated between the stands. The five boys were trying to make their way out of it and get to the more romantic/costume shops on Capital Hill. He kept glancing back at Cory and Gale, totally having forgiven them a few days ago, and seeing how much they really loved each other. He knew that Cory had been a slave as well, and in Gale he saw Avery writ small. Ryan held his hand while KJ smiled at the skinny nerdy ex-slave. The two of them were madly crushing on each other, and their sweetness permeated the air, infecting everyone around them with motes of bliss. Outside of the facility, Ryan's smile was brighter than anything, and he danced about like his little blue candles with their little dancing flames. One could not help but go crazy with joy as KJ did around him.  
They met with Diana and Carter at a costume shop near a Vietnamese restaurant. Carter held her purse, without a bit of shame in the world. He smiled sweetly when he saw the five guys there. Diana was in the restroom, but they were shopping for clothes as well. She joined the party, her leg wrapped up tightly and her body supported with crutches, and the joy everyone felt at her presence made the pain fall away quickly.  
"So any idea what Avery has planned for you?" Diana asked as they entered the clothing store on the lower levels. Tyler shook his head.  
"No idea. But knowing him, it will be amazing." Tyler browsed, looking for shirts.   
Cory found a mesh tank top and was showing it off to the guys, and they began to argue fiercely over who would look best in it. Eventually Diana demanded that Carter put it on... and hilarity ensued.

***

"I missed you today." Tyler smiled.  
Avery made a right turn. "Really? You felt safe, right?"  
"Oh yeah. Ryan is good at doing that. Like you." Tyler did not avert his gaze from Avery for a second. They drove until they came to a building that Tyler had never seen before, one that was white marble and very upscale. "Avery, what are we doing here?"  
"I have a room for us." The older gentleman smiled. He grabbed their bags, gathering up everything despite his bruised and battered forearm in a cast. It would take a lot more than that to break Avery Jones. They ventured into the lobby, where the cute desk attendant gave them their key and they ventured up to the suite that Avery had prepared much, much earlier.  
Avery handed the bags to Tyler, and undid the scarf around his neck. "You trust me, right?"  
"Of course!" Tyler beamed. Avery stepped behind him, tying the scarf around his eyes, to which the younger man giggled. "Whatchu plannin'?"  
"Come on in." Avery unlocked the door, leading them safely inside. He locked the door behind him, and began to light the candles. "Keep the scarf on. I need a minute."  
"Okay, I'll wait as long as you need." Tyler smiled. "Can I set these down?"  
"What? Oh yeah... um just right where you're standing is good. Watch your step."  
Avery took several minutes to hurriedly light up the candles. Many of them were cinnamon-scented, and soon the spicy hotness of them filled the air. Tyler thought heard a bathtub running, and several minutes tickled by. He felt around, trying to find a seat. It was pretty funny, actually, and he could barely contain how excited he was.  
But then a dreadful thought came upon him.... Avery didn't want to take a bath by himself.... no, then he would be naked in front of him, and he was ugly. He couldn't let that happen! No, why would Avery do something like this? Why oh why? He wasn't healed yet, he knew. This had to be a sick joke. He began to cry.  
"Tyler... what's wrong?" Avery was by his side almost immediately.  
"I can't do this, Avery." Tyler sobbed. He felt Avery remove the scarf around his tear-stained eyes, and he saw Avery in the candle-light, a flame-lit archangel, here to comfort him in his time of need. Avery's blue eyes were serene in their love for him. They were for Tyler, and Tyler only. They would protect him, along with the rest of Avery, if he were in harm's way or in pain.  
"I can't... I'm not healed and I'm ugly...." He sniffed.  
"You're not ugly, Tyler. Come on." He lifted Tyler up from the chair by his hands and lovingly lead him to the bathroom, which was a wide expanse. Weirdly, Tyler saw that this room included a window pane leading into the bedroom, where a simple red bed adorned the simple room. The bathroom on the other side of the window, where they stood, was decorated with rose petals, which were brilliant on the black tiles. Candles stood vigil on the tiles above the inviting bubbly water. An ice bucket with a bottle of Veuve Clicquot champagne and two fancy glasses sat in the corner, inviting the lovers to join them.  
At the sight of this, Tyler sobbed. Avery had gone through all this trouble, all this preparation, and now he felt like a shithead for not wanting Avery to see him naked. They hadn't been exposed to each other since Tyler was freed. Avery had been patient, never wanting sex, just wanting to see him get better. He was saint for waiting so long.... Tyler had tried to smooth away his scars with creams galore, trying to get back to his old smooth-skinned look. He missed it so much, along with a lot of other things that once comforted him.  
Avery stood before him, and embraced him. "I felt the same way, Tyler. I felt unclean and violated. I want.... I don't want you to feel like that. EVER. I accept you, I love you, just the way you are! Your scars are like my own, Tyler...." Avery was crying as well. "Your scars tell the story of how you defied them, and kept your freedom. They don't make me love you less, Tyler. They make me love you more! We are like one of the same, now! We're also like Carter, Cory, and all the others who suffered. But we did not submit, EVER. I cannot love you any less for that!"  
Avery stood before a mirror and began to strip. His shirt was the first to leave him, and he undid his belt and his slacks, slipping his thumbs below his boxer briefs and pulling them off in a single swoop. He struggled with his socks, hopping around like a dork while Tyler giggled. He was nude, his scars showing and telling his story like before. The Mark of 19 upon his chest, impossible to hide.  
Tyler hugged himself, feeling cold, and Avery came closer to him, undoing his belt and zipper. "Trust me." He whispered, and Tyler closed his eyes. His pants and briefs came down, leaving him standing there just in his bright yellow turtleneck. Avery turned him to face the body-length mirror. He held his arms above his head, and pulled the form-hugging shirt above his skinny frame. The older gentleman knight then wrapped his arms around Tyler, and he felt their warmth fill his soul.  
Avery, in his scarred body, looked amazing. It was the way he presented himself, proud and happy for all the horror he had faced. He had slain the demons and their minions, all for him, and now here he was, bringing comfort to the one he loved most and desired most. Tyler saw their bodies, and their scars, begin to blend into a seamless whole. Individually, they were just mortals; powerful and willful, but together, they were both almighty! They were defiance and freedom incarnate, and they wore their power on their flesh- it was like the soul reflecting on the body exactly, challenging the unholy to come and destroy them. It was brilliant, it was glistening bright and it was beautiful.  
Avery couldn't help it when a tear fell down his cheek, and Tyler smiled, turning to him with bright eyes madly in love. "Don't cry, you big snuggly retard."  
"The water is getting cold." Avery pressed his head against his younger lover's, and they climbed into the tub, drinking their champagne and losing themselves in each other's warmth. It was a cleansing, soothing bath, with the water being pure and hot and such a relief. Avery climbed in first, cushioning Tyler as the younger man lay upon him. Cinnamon, mixed with the sandalwood scents of Avery's deodorant and cologne, waifed into Tyler's nose, and he leaned back, not wanting this bliss to end, ever. If he could spent eternity in this miniature version of Eden, he would have. The sweet bubbly brew in his glass warmed his belly and the bubbles tickled his tongue, and the rough yet soft skin of his lover.... There were no words for it.

***

How long they lay there in the warm bubbles Tyler did not know or care, but they found themselves drying quickly, their lips locked in passion, remembering each other and how they almost never saw one another again! Avery hefted Tyler up like a naked giggly bride and brought him to the red bed on the other side of the room.  
"The layout is horrible," Tyler laughed and kissed Avery again. Avery laid him down upon the bed, and moved down to his Mark, kissing it with his lips. He kept kissing, and kissing, until every inch of it had been consecrated by his lips. Tyler did the same thing with Avery's breast, his tongue and lips dancing across the rough surface, until he snuck south to nibble on Avery's nipple, making the older man moan.  
"I submit to you." Tyler whispered.  
Avery put his finger to his lips. "Don't ever say those words. You are not a slave. You are Tyler Severin Davenport, the Man Unbroken." His gaze intense and protective, and Tyler could barely keep his heartbeat under control.  
"I thought of you every day in that cell. I never lost faith in you. Not for a single moment!" Tyler reached up and embraced Avery, his Archangel. "I had help from Ryan with his little blue candle, but overall, I kept thinking of you. I never, never, never stopped believing you would come and rescue me!"   
"I owe Ryan, then." Avery lowered himself, slightly crushing Tyler into the bedsheets, but the boy loved it! The warmth and protection of his lover was all he ever wanted after his sentence in Hell!  
"You can tie me down if you want, I am okay with that." Tyler said.  
"No." Avery kissed his cheek. "In time, yes, but I'd rather.... love you freely. You've been restrained enough."  
"I understand." Tyler bit down on Avery's earlobe, making him moan. "I feel safe with you."  
"I know." Avery spoke. "And I feel alive and young again with you."  
Tyler dove into Avery's neck, rolling him over in the soft red bed, pinning his arms down and biting and nibbling and sucking on his lips, tongue and upper chest. Avery moaned and smiled brightly, then rolled them over again in a tight loving embrace.  
"Can we stay here forever?" Tyler pleaded.  
"We can't stay here, but we can build a new Eden elsewhere." Avery pressed his face against Tyler's. "I will never leave, Tyler. Know this."  
"I love you." The young man declared.  
"I love you more." Avery challenged with a smirk.  
"Nuh uh! I love you times ten."  
"I love you times infinity."  
"Then prove it, you big snuggly retard in shining armor!" Tyler shrieked in joyous lust and eternal affection when Avery pounced on him, attacking his neck, cinnamon and sandalwood and champagne and sweat mingling in their dance romantic. There was nothing but love between them, pure love, untainted by the burdens of the past. They could exist here, in their Eden, happily and peacefully with each other for all time. No one would come between them, ever again, and their bond was as strong in their souls as the scars on their bodies. They were never to be slaves, never to be someone else's property.  
They, like their love, stood mighty and strong together, both forever unbroken.

 

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Cast of Characters:
> 
> Avery Jones: http://i1213.photobucket.com/albums/cc469/Baitnate25/Avery.png  
> Tyler Davenport: http://i1213.photobucket.com/albums/cc469/Baitnate25/Tyler.png  
> Ghost: http://i1213.photobucket.com/albums/cc469/Baitnate25/Ghostface.png  
> KJ: http://i1213.photobucket.com/albums/cc469/Baitnate25/KJ.png  
> Ryan: http://th06.deviantart.net/fs71/PRE/i/2012/068/5/b/shy_and_submissive_by_fiend30-d4s9gwv.jpg  
> Diana: http://i1213.photobucket.com/albums/cc469/Baitnate25/Diana.png  
> Carter: http://i1213.photobucket.com/albums/cc469/Baitnate25/Carter.png  
> Aaron: http://i1213.photobucket.com/albums/cc469/Baitnate25/Aaron.png  
> Isaac: http://i1213.photobucket.com/albums/cc469/Baitnate25/Isaac.png  
> William Wilson: http://i1213.photobucket.com/albums/cc469/Baitnate25/WilliamWilson.png  
> Venus: http://i1213.photobucket.com/albums/cc469/Baitnate25/Venus.png  
> Cory/Gale: http://i1213.photobucket.com/albums/cc469/Baitnate25/ThePainters.png


End file.
